


Let's Start Over

by Batsymomma11



Series: Evolution of a Jaybird [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Under the Red Hood
Genre: Bat Family, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Other, Protective Bruce, Resurrection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-06-27 21:35:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 43,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15693834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batsymomma11/pseuds/Batsymomma11
Summary: It's been a year since Jason tried to take down Gotham in a storm of blood and mayhem. A year since he stared down Joker and tried to kill him with Batman as witness. Instead of giving in, or trying to blow himself into oblivion, Jason made a choice to start over. He moved into Wayne manor, agreed to follow Bruce's rules, and slowly started to rebuild relationships that were broken. He began to live a life he never wanted, but wants to make work. Meeting a girl, falling hard and fast, that isn't exactly part of the plan. But Jason can't seem to help himself.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There are elements of rape referenced. If this is a trigger for you, please be forewarned. Nothing is graphically depicted, but it is referenced and is a major part of character development. This story is not canon.  
> I do not own DC or the characters. I do own Lanie. 
> 
> Enjoy! Comments will are appreciated and will be responded to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rape/torture references and language

               He punched the heavy bag with a single-minded focus. Fists snapping into worn leather, talc sputtering and the steady grounding chink of a chain being forcefully moved.

                Jason could feel the sweat dripping down his forehead and nose. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest, quick and ready and it soothed something inside of him nothing else could. He’d become addicted to the feel of his own heartbeat. Addicted to the sound of his breathing as it moved over lips and teeth. Addicted to life.

                He was alive.

                _Punch._

He was alive.

                _Punch, punch, kick._

He was alive. Breathe in, breathe out. Feel the thrum of blood slamming through his veins.

                Jason hit the bag until his knuckles ripped and his sides were heaving in exhaust. Even still, he wanted to keep hitting. He wanted to keep toeing that line so he could feel his pulse in the shells of his ears. So, he could feel alive.

                Because when he stopped, there would still be that aching hole in his stomach. There would still be something that echoed in the hollow of his chest that reminded him he was dead. He’d been dead and he could be again. In fact, would be. Someday.

                Jason’s eyes fluttered shut when he fell into the heavy bag’s weight and wrapped both arms to keep himself from falling. He’d not been sleeping. Hadn’t been able to close his eyes in twenty-six hours. And he was so tired. So, fucking tired.

                “Master Jason.”

                Jason lurched, slipping a little on the sweat-slicked mat beneath his sneakers as he startled upright. His gaze found the old butler that guarded his house like a watch dog with ease, standing in the open doorway.

                “Yeah, Alf? What is it?”

                One white eyebrow rose in question and Jason sighed.

                “I know. It’s late,” he looked to the large digital clock on the far wall. It read two-thirty in blaring red numbers. “I couldn’t sleep.”

                Wearing a thick silk robe over his traditional and very British looking pajamas, Alfred strode into the weight room and regally assessed the man who once had been his charge. Now, they were hardly on speaking terms. Granted, a year had offered some time to adjust to the new reality they were all living, but it couldn’t mend everything. Some things, would always be broken.

                “I can offer you a sedative.”

                Jason snorted, “No thanks. I try not to take anything unless it’s dire.”

                “Master Bruce says the same,” Alfred spoke wearily, “At least let me help you to your room. You can count sheep in your bed. Pretend that you’re attempting to sleep for my sake.”

                Jason followed without challenge. A sign of how tired he really was.

                Following the old man up the carpeted stairs to his room, Jason had a strange sense of déjà vu and wondered briefly it would ever feel right to go into his old room again. His door was still open and though Alfred guided him in with polish weathered hands, Jason still hesitated at the threshold.

                He’d not changed anything since moving back home.

                Everything was still the same. A mausoleum to who Jason Todd had been before he’d been killed.

                Posters littered the walls. Rock bands, JLA members, and pinups. Action figures littered the dresser top and window sills. Even his bedding, faded blue and red checkers looked like that of an adolescent boy. Jason didn’t even remember what it felt like to feel ‘normal’. To have likes and dislikes. To pick out bedding and or tape up a four-dollar poster because he was obsessed. It felt—like it wasn’t him. Like he’d never done any of those things. But he had the memories. He knew he’d been a boy once. A boy who’d loved his brother and his Dad. Who’d worshipped the ground the Batman had walked on and done everything right. Everything.

                Except for when he hadn’t. And then the memories became visceral. No longer shadowed in hazy film. Bright and garish. Ugly.

                A hand brushed along his shoulder and Jason jerked, stepping away from Alfred to avoid the contact. As a rule, he’d never been big on touching. Now, he didn’t care for it ever. Touching brought back memories he didn’t like to go to.

                He went there enough in his dreams.

                “Can I get you anything?”

                Jason swallowed, his voice tight, “No, thanks. I’ll—I’ll count sheep.”

                “Try a warm bath first. It might help.”

                Jason smiled thinly at Alfred, already wanting to slip away again. To disappear into himself where no one needed him to be normal.  Taking his cue, Alfred closed the door and left Jason to his thoughts. It didn’t take long for Jason to meander into the bathroom and wash off the grime of his workout. By the time he emerged from the steamed room and flopped naked onto his bedspread, his eyes were already dropped into slits and he was only vaguely aware of the dripping faucet of the tub.

                He listened to his breathing. One in, one out. Two fingers drifted absently to the soft thread of his pulse in the hollow of his throat and he let them rest there. _Thump. Thump. Thump._

He was alive. He was alive. He was alive.

                Jason fell asleep to the melody of his heart’s quiet song.

 

                It had been a week since the weight room and that rash of sleepless night. Jason had been skating on a three-night streak of sleep and was feeling—chipper. Sunlight burned through the windows of his bedroom and welcomed him to get ready. The smell of coffee and breakfast was wafting up the manor stairs to encourage him to socialize, even if only for a moment.

                Jason patted his flat stomach as it growled, then looked away from the mirror he’d been mindlessly staring into.

                It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been in school for the last month. College that is. But each time he got ready in the morning, and invariably looked at his reflection, there was a frightening schism that happened in his mind. He’d see the green eyes, black hair with the odd white streak, and the strong jaw. He’d see the man peering back at him, and he wouldn’t recognize him. Inside, Jason wondered where his thin angular face was. Where was the boy’s face with bright excited green eyes and too wild of hair that he could never tame with a comb?

                How could he feel ancient? Like an old man in a young man’s skin, and not also see it? How could he feel young and vulnerable one moment then like the vicious killer he was the next?

                “Jason!”

                Jason scowled into the mirror, hearing the obnoxious little demon’s voice blare from the hallway. He resisted the urge to yell back something crass and instead walked slowly, maybe a littler slower than necessary out to greet him.

                “Good morning Jason,” the demon said formally, dressed in his uniform like a good little clone.

                “Mornin’ Demon. Oops, I mean, Damian.”

                Virtually a carbine copy of Bruce, Damian looked nothing like his twelve years of age. In fact, wearing that dark scowl, he could easily pass for a moody fifteen or sixteen-year-old. He certainly acted like one.

                “I see you’ve already gotten dressed. Father told me he can’t take me to school. I will need your assistance.”

                Jason smirked, “Again? That must irk you. I’m taking my bike so you’re going to have to ride bitch. Again.”

                The tiny flicker of muscle at the boy’s mouth was the only indication that he’d been irritated by the comment.

                “Fine. Alfred made pancakes.”

                “Yum.”

                Rolling his eyes, Damian lead the way, obviously resisting the urge to stomp his feet. Rounding a few corners and still silent, the pair entered the kitchen and found the rest of the gang already seated at the table eating quietly. Bruce, not usually up at this hour, was wearing his business-man clothes and nursing a cup of coffee with a scowl. Dick, perched at the bar was eating pancakes and perusing the comic section, as always and Tim, looked like a pothead nerd who would rather be anywhere else as he squinted through his thick glasses against the sunlight that poured in.

                “Master Jason, Master Damian. Good morning. Pancakes are on the counter. I expect you to clean up your dishes as I have a pressing appointment to get to,” he hesitated, gaze flickering to Bruce who’d looked up from his paper, “and I’m assuming Master Damian told you he will need a ride to school again?”

                “Yeah,” Jason mused, choosing the spot by Dick to claim for his share of the pancakes.

                It almost felt—normal. Nearly familial with them all scarfing food and drinking coffee and not really saying anything. No one in the family was very much a morning person. Unless you counted Dick and even then, he was tolerably alert, not overly peppy in the morning. Jason dug into his pancakes and let the silence stretch, ignoring the feel of Bruce’s gaze on his back and the room at large.

                “Supposed to rain tonight,” Dick mumbled around a mouthful of food, flipping over the comic section, “Gonna fucking suck.”

                “Language,” Bruce mumbled, still sipping his coffee.

                Jason kept quiet but watched Dick roll his eyes. Tim had moved past simply staring at the wall like a zombie and had actually begun eating. Damian, was already finished and was standing by the back door tapping his foot.

                “Kid, we’ve got like ten minutes still.”

                Damian’s scowl darkened, “I like to be early.”

                “We’ll be early.”

                “My early Todd or yours?”

                Jason opened his mouth to answer then found Bruce doing it for him. “Damian, Jason is doing you a favor. Please try to act a little more gracious.”

                If Jason were near enough, he would be able to hear the grinding of teeth from his favorite little demonspawn. Ten minutes later, exactly, because Jason really could be prick when he wanted to be they were grabbing backpacks and heading for the garage.

                “Jason, a moment?”      

                Jason let Damian go without him but didn’t miss the exasperated sigh the kid did on the way out. Bruce was standing at the sink, having just finished washing his dishes and looked as he always did. Closed off. Dark. His brows were drawn low over gray eyes that hid emotions so well they could be called emotionless. If you didn’t know him.

                “What’s up B?”

                Bruce shifted, “Thank you for taking Damian.”

                “Sure.”

                There was a pause, a shuffle of feet, and Jason could feel that Bruce was working up to something. The man wasn’t good with feelings but it had been obvious that since Jason’s return, he’d done his best to try and do better with them. They both had, to some degree.

                “I talked with Alfred. He says you haven’t been sleeping.”

                Jason ignored the sudden interest of Dick at the bar and kept his gaze on Bruce. “Just some dreams. No biggy.”

                “I know this past year hasn’t been easy for you. But—I think you’ve been doing a good job. A great job. And I’m really proud of you.”

                “Thanks,” Jason cleared his throat, trying not to feel the sudden blush that was rushing to his cheeks. He wasn’t used to being complimented outside of the field. It felt awkward.

                  Bruce sighed, looking as pained as Jason felt, “Your birthday is this weekend.”

                Jason barely managed to hide the flinch. But he knew Bruce saw it. He knew Dick probably did to. The Replacement was only just now eating breakfast, so it was doubtful he was even paying attention.

                One hand gripped his elbow, briefly squeezing and Jason looked up quickly to see Bruce’s concerned gaze sharpened on him.

                “I’d like to do something. To celebrate.”

                “I don’t know—I’m not sure--.”

                “Just something small. Just us.”

                “Bruce—I don’t know if that would be good for me. I’m not—I’m not good with that stuff anymore.”

                Bruce’s mouth thinned as he watched Jason, pain flashing brightly in his gaze. And for a moment, the look was so unguarded, so naked it took Jason’s breath away.

                “Think about it.”

                Jason shrugged a shoulder, suddenly feeling small, “Yeah, sure.”

                “OK,” Bruce forced a smile, reaching again to touch him, again to break their silent treaty then stepped back. “I’ve got to head out. Have a good day at school.”

                “Yeah,” Jason mumbled, already backing up to get to the garage. By the time he got there, he was feeling more in control and less off-center. Seeing Damian pacing a trench into the cement beside his back brought a smile to his mouth.

                “Ready squirt?”

                Damian stopped, made a hissing noise between his teeth, then growled. “Don’t call me that.”

                “Alright Demon, whatever makes you happy.”

               

                Getting out of his chemistry class on time to grab Damian from school was going to be a challenge, but one that he was apparently now prepared to make. When he’d been told he’d need to drop the kid off at school, he hadn’t anticipated he’d also need to pick him up.

                Alfred’s urgent text saying he’d been waylaid at the supermarket and couldn’t make it on time made such things a reality.

                Jason’s knee jiggled under the table as he listened to his professor’s droning voice and he wondered briefly if shooting himself in the head might liven things up a little. Perhaps, but only a little.

                He took notes sometimes. When he was feeling productive and student-y. Today, he’d zoned for most of it and didn’t think he’d be remembering much of anything later. There was cheats online for that. And smart dweebs like Timothy. Hell, even the demon knew more than him. It was no secret that Jason’s forte had never been school.

                But when he’d come back home, determined to give living ‘normally’ again a fair shake, he’d decided that a man of his ripe 19 years of age, should have an education. One he could use for something. If nothing else than to say that he fucking had one. Especially since he’d never graduated from high school and had to take GED classes just to get here.

                Though that hadn’t really been his fault. He’d been busy being dead.

                Class was dismissed five minutes late.

                Jason gathered his book bag and the stack of papers he’d been doodling on and booked it for the exit. And he almost made it, except he tried to clothesline a pretty brunette who he’d missed trying to come in.

                “Fuck,” Jason growled, papers flying, his book crumpling with his bag. Pencils rolled, his Gatorade bottle cap popped off and started leaking blue onto the tile. “Fuck.”             

                “Sorry,” the girl said quickly, dropping low to help him. Jason wasn’t usually an asshole, but it was on the tip of his tongue to say something horrifically crude. Until he looked up and found his face about a centimeter away from tawny brown eyes and freckles upon freckles.

                “Uh,” he stammered, feeling his face heat, “It was my fault. Sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you.”

                She smiled, the smile going from her mouth where straight white teeth shown all the way to her eyes that crinkled prettily. If innocence had a picture in the dictionary, she’d be in it. Jason swallowed thickly, fumbling to finish gathering up his crap and felt like a fucking idiot. He’d practically snarled at her. And _he’d_ been the one rushing and not looking.

                Students streamed past them, ignoring them altogether and Jason was grateful that nobody really knew him or cared who he was.

                “I haven’t seen you campus before.”

                Jason stuffed the Gatorade, still leaking right into his bag, “Yeah, I live at home. Cheaper.”

                Not exactly true. But whatever.

                The girl, who’s hair was reddish brown and looked so soft his hands ached laughed, “Yeah, I wish I could. My family lives in Metropolis. It’s just too far.”

                “Why pick Gotham U?”

                She tipped her head to study him and Jason resisted the urge to squirm, “Because it has an amazing law-school.”

                “You want to be a lawyer?” Of course, she did. In five years she’d be the woman who would have put Jason behind bars for life for what he did.

                “Something against lawyers?”

                “No, uh, no.”

                She smiled again, that innocent breathtaking smile then offered her hand when they were both standing, “My name is Lanie Thompkins.”

                Jason stared at the hand a moment, then took it, “Jay.”

                She lifted a brow, “No last name?”

                “I’m a—private sort of person.”

                “OK,” Lanie pursed her lips, “Would you be willing to give it to me after we had coffee?”

                “What?”

                “You know, that black stuff that tastes like liquid gold?”

                Jason blinked, felt something horrific like a blush flooding his face then started to make matters worse by stammering, “Yeah, I know that. I just—you want to have coffee?”

                “Why yes, thanks for asking. Where and when?”

                Slick. The girl was slick. No wonder she wanted to be a lawyer.

                “Shit,” Jason jerked when he heard the chime on the campus clock. “Shit, shit. I’m late. I’m so late. Uh, yes, I want to do coffee but I—I gotta go.”

                Lanie seemed unmoved by what Alfred liked to call his ‘potty mouth’ as she pulled a pen out of her pocket. “Here,” she reached forward, grabbed his hand like it was the most natural thing in the world, then wrote out her phone number on the top. “Text or call and we’ll set something up,” she paused, not letting go of his hand right away and Jason felt like an electrical current was rushing up his arm into his chest. His pulse was racing. _I’m alive. I’m alive._

                “Nice meeting you Jay.”

                “Nice meeting you,” Jason stammered then tugged his hand back. He waited till she went into the lecture hall then bolted for the parking lot where he’d left his bike. There was no way he was going to be able to make up this amount of time with speeding. He was going to be late.

 

                “You’re late Todd.”

                Jason grimaced at Damian standing in the circle drive, his face pinched and angry. “Yeah, sorry kid. Class got out late then I got held up.”

                Damian stomped up to the bike, took the offered helmet then stuffed it on his head. His words were suspiciously quiet and lacked his usual bite. “You made me look like an idiot.”

                The statement had more of an affect on him than Jason imagined they should. Especially considering the only thing he’d felt or let himself feel a year ago had been red-hot revenge. But he felt guilty when they pulled out into traffic and Damian held onto his waist weakly, like he’d been kicked in the gut. And he felt worse when they finally got home and Damian didn’t have any nasty choice words for him before escaping to his room.

                Tim wasn’t back yet from school and Alfred was still in the kitchen unloading groceries. Dick had probably already headed back to Bludhaven sometime after lunch. Jason was on his own with this one.

                Sucking it up, Jason strode to Damian’s closed bedroom door and knocked like a dutiful brother. If that was, even what they were to each other.

                “I’m busy Todd.”

                “Can I come in?”

                “For what?” the voice sounded snappish again and it was a small relief to hear it. Jason preferred the demon being ill-mannered and rude. It was easier to deal with.

                “Alfred needs me to get something out of your closet. Linens or something?” A small lie. It was for the best.

                “Fine. Come in.”

                Jason pushed the surprisingly unlocked door open and went straight to where Damian was sitting at his desk already typing away like his life depended on it.

                “Journaling all those big emotions demon?” Jason tried for light and noticed the failure immediately when Damian’s shoulders curved inwards and his mouth went into a mutinous line.

                “Look, kid, I’m really sorry for embarrassing you.”

                Damian spun in his chair, face red now. “I never said that. I thought you were getting something from my closet…”

                Jason shrugged, “I lied.”

                “Typical.”

                “Can you blame me? You wouldn’t have done the same?”

                “I have integrity and a moral code, something you have no notion of Todd.”

                A little too close to home. Jason pursed his lips then closed the gap between he and the kid purposefully, making himself stand near enough he could be ready for any touchy-feely things that needed to happen. He’d hurt the little demon and didn’t particularly like the sensation. He was prepared to do whatever it took to make him feel better.

                “What are you doing?”

                “I’m…” Jason rolled his eyes, feeling stupid. “Giving you a hug.”

                “What?” Damian growled, stiffening when Jason awkwardly wrapped his arms around the twelve-year old and gave a light squeeze. It was brief, and hella weird, but the kid didn’t push him away. And that said a lot.

                 “Just don’t show up late again.”

                Jason eyed Damian a moment, feeling the small victory lighten his chest impossibly. Small potatoes for most, but huge for a guy who had no idea how to behave around people anymore. “I’ll do my best demon.”

                Damian’s mouth rose in a half-grin, “I could use a challenger in Call of Duty. Would you be willing to take me?”

                Jason laughed, “Easily kid. Easily.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Same warnings apply as last chapter.
> 
> * Also, had to change that Lanie was an only child to her having three sisters. I apparently decided later on that she needed siblings and changed that little detail. Oops. Sorry!

                Supper was a simple affair and though Bruce was late and came midway through, it felt—fucking downright domestic. Which made Jason feel on edge and antsy. He wasn’t sure what to do with all of these new _feelings_ he was having.

                It was difficult to explain why Tim’s snorted laughter over a dumb joke Dick said made his chest warm. Or why when Damian smiled at Bruce and softened impossibly, looking his actual age made Jason want to rub the top of the kid’s head and give him a noogie. Or, why Alfred joining them at the table with a small satisfied smile made Jason’s stomach ache.

                One big happy fucking family. He should be happy too. He should be—

                “How was your day Jason?” Bruce asked lightly, cutting into his steak with a pleased humming sound. The man loved his red meat and it was clear from the dark circles under his eyes, it had been a long day.

                “Fine.”

                Strangely, Damian said nothing about Jason being late to pick him up for school. The kid looked too pleased to have Daddybats home. Which was something to see in itself. “How was uh-work?” Jason gestured with his fork at Bruce’s suit.

                “Long,” Bruce answered honestly, his mouth curving up into a weary smile, “Lots of meetings and schmoozing. Not a big fan of that.”

                Jason remembered. Finished already, Dick had his hands wrapped around a beer and was surreptitiously studying Jason, as if Jason couldn’t see it. But they both knew he could see it just fine.

                “Master Timothy, you’ve been very quiet. How was your day?” Alfred piped up from his end of the table, dabbing at his mouth with a starched white napkin.

                “Good. I aced my AP chem final.”

                Jason snorted, thinking of his own Chemistry class he’d be lucky to pass.

                “Something funny?” Dick mused, sipping at the beer, eyes lazy and warm.

                “Naw.”

                “What’s that on your hand?”

                Jason froze, his own beer just touching his mouth, “What?”

                Dick’s eyes went down to the marked hand with a small knowing smile, “That a phone number?”

                Everyone at the table was suddenly very interested in Jason and his answer. Jason shifted, felt incredibly tempted to cover the pen or smear it, but sat stiff and awkward instead.

                “Well?” Bruce was speaking now, his face neutral. “Is it a phone number?”

                “Yeah, so?”

                Bruce shrugged, “It’s your business Jason. And nothing to be ashamed about.”

                “I’m not—I’m not ashamed. Just don’t really want to talk about it.”

                Timothy smiled wickedly, “Why not? Is she pretty?”

                Damian rolled his eyes, “Of course she is. Why else would he be blushing Drake?”

                “I am not--.”

                “Yes, you are. I bet she’s a babe. What’s her name? Come on, don’t hold out. We have to live vicariously through you.”

                 “Tim…” Bruce’s voice was low and warning.

                “What?”

                Damian snorted, “Female entanglements should be avoided when we do the work that we do.”

                “Entanglements? My God, you sound like an old man.”

                “I take offense to that,” Alfred murmured politely.

                But the two were already in too deep.

                Bruce sighed as Tim and Damian started arguing more heatedly and Dick began laughing. Jason merely shrank in his seat and felt his pockets for the pack of smokes he kept on hand.

                “Excuse me,” Jason mumbled, keeping his eyes off Dick and Bruce who were watching him like hawks. They always were. Always worrying and studying, beneath a thin layer of calm that didn’t really exist. Like they were waiting to see when he might snap altogether and start killing again.

                He left the table silently, though the volume in the dining room had grown exponentially.

                No one stopped him.

                He slipped out the back door through the kitchen and fell into the darkness towards the gardens. Alfred had someone come weekly to prune and pick at the multitude of rose bushes, hostas, and greenery. Jason didn’t know most of the names, but he could appreciate the green easily enough. It smelled like fresh cut grass and Jason could see the reflection of the moon in the looking pool Bruce’s late mother had put in just before her death. Sitting on the edge of the stone, Jason pulled off his boots and socks, rolled his pants and dipped them into the slightly too cold water.

                Already having found his cigarettes he kept for occasional release, Jason lit one up and watched the smoke waft lazily towards the moon.

                Finally, the knot in his stomach began to loosen.

                “If Bruce catches you smoking one of those, he’s going to have a hay-day.”

                Jason snorted, closing both eyes, “I don’t care.”

                Silence stretched, the comfort of being outside of walls still soothing him. Dick must have followed him when he left, but the older man was giving him room to breathe and Jason was thankful for it.

                “You staying over?” Jason hummed, inhaling deeply of the sweet toxic smoke as Dick took the seat beside him.      

                “Probably. I stay here as often as I do at my apartment in Bludhaven.”

                “I know.”

                They both didn’t say that he’d started staying over more often at the manor since Jason moved back home. Dick’s support was silent but strong and Jason knew without a doubt that he’d not be as far in his recovery without his older brother’s help.

                “Does it bother you?”

                One rough finger tapped the back of his veined hand.

                Jason shrugged a shoulder, looking down at the penned number, “The phone number?”

                Dick nodded, his hair glistening like black obsidian in the moonlight.

                “A little.”

                “Why?”

                “It doesn’t really matter.”

                “You know it does J-bird.”

                Jason felt a part of his chest burn when he heard that name. He’d not been called his pet name in so many, many years. And it only sounded right coming from Dick. Dick who was ten years his senior and had taken on the role of big brother like he was born to it.

                “It’s hard for me to talk about.”

                “Yeah.”

                “I don’t like—touching.”

                Dick’s eyes flickered to his, held a moment, then fell back to the reflection pool, “That’s not surprising. But I would imagine that makes any sort of intimate relationship hard to contemplate.”

                Jason’s throat felt tight, “Yeah. It’s something I don’t think about. Ever.”

                “It will be different than you think it will.”

                “Will it?” Jason breathed, eyes suddenly burning, “Anytime anyone touches me, even if it’s casual, all I see or feel is _him_.”

                Dick’s hands fisted in his lap. “I hate that.”

                Jason laughed, but it was bitter, “Me too. Fucking doesn’t change a thing.”

                “If I could, I would go back and save you from everything J-bird. You know Bruce I would have, if we could have, don’t you?” there was something broken in the way Dick asked. Something that implied his own set of demons and Jason nodded, unable to give much more of a reassurance.

                “Have you thought about seeing someone?”

                Jason’s brows rose, “Like a shrink?”

                “Well, yeah, maybe.”

                “Bruce already tried to get me to see one.”

                “Of course, he did,” Dick mumbled, frustration evident on his face, “They could help you understand what to do with all that fear though.”

                “I’m not afraid.”

                “Jason,” Dick’s voice was soft, “It’s OK to be afraid. It doesn’t make you weak.”

                “I know that,” Jason snapped, pushing to a stand, dropping his cigarette under his heel to smear it out. He’d come out here to unwind and disconnect. He wasn’t in the mood for a heart to heart about his fucked-up feelings. About why the idea of even kissing a girl made him break into a cold sweat.

                “Sorry.”

                Jason scowled down at Dick, “Don’t be. You’re just trying to help. Everyone is.”

                “But it’s not helping.”

                “It’s—doing something. I’m just not sure what.”

                “You’ve come a long way.”

                “And I’ve got so much more to go,” Jason said wearily, pushing both hands through his disheveled hair. “One step forward, two back. I find my mojo in just fucking getting up and going to school then some girl gives me her number and I’m panicking about what I’ll do. I don’t have to do anything. But I _want_ to and that scares me more. Because—I’m not normal Dick. I’m messed up so badly still. I’d hurt her. Fuck, she’d hurt me. And then what? What if she triggers something and I—I try to kill her? What if I snap and go back to what I did before? Back to killing because it was fucking easier?”

                “J-bird.” Dick’s voice was soft and kind, “You wouldn’t do that. It’s not in you.”

                “It is.”

                “No,” Dick said so forcefully that Jason stopped arguing and stared at him. “No. You’ve only ever killed men that deserved it. Never women or children. And certainly not innocents. Give yourself a little credit.”

                “I’m broken Dick.”

                “No more broken than the rest of us. And we still love you. Scars and all.”

                Jason wanted to make a nasty retort about the loving him bit, but it hit home and made his eyes water. He sniffed, looking down at his still bare feet with a scowl. “If I text her, would you help me figure out what to say?”

                Dick chuckled, “Jay, you’re going to be more of a natural than you think. Chick magnet.”

                Jason rolled his eyes.

                “Seriously, when’s the last time you looked in a mirror? That’s half the battle already won.”

                Jason felt his face heat and he was grateful for the dark. “So, you’ll help me?”

                “Course. But when you do manage to survive a date and see it isn’t as bad as expected, then I get full rights to tease the fuck out of you.”          

                Jason laughed, and it felt like a real, genuine laugh.

                 

                _So, coffee?_

_**Is this the mysterious Jay? If so, then absolutely.**_

**** _Uh, yeah. Who else? ;)_

_**Haha. I’m free tomorrow after three. I can meet you at the Daily Grind.**_

**** _Sounds great. I’ll be there._

_**C u then. :)**_

****

                “That’s it?”

                Dick laughed, “Yeah. Easy, just like I said. And I promise she won’t eat you either. Or, at least not painfully.”

                Jason went pale at the thought and quickly changed the subject when Dick noticed. “About this weekend, Bruce wanted to do a party? I don’t know if that’s what I want.”

                “It’s just going to be us. And a cake. Alfred already picked one out he wants to make from scratch and I’m pretty sure Bruce has had a couple of things stashed in his closet with your name sticky noted for weeks.”

                “You’re—guilt tripping me—.”

                Dick’s grin was wide and infectious, “No one else has the guts to. So, I’m filling in.”

                “Right.”

                “I’ll let them know you want to do it.”

                “Do what?” Bruce asked, striding into the study wearing his thermal under gear, looking ready to hit the streets on patrol. It was around midnight, so it wasn’t surprising.

                “Uh,” Jason hedged a moment, “a party?”

                Bruce stopped, looked at Dick then smiled with a shake of his head, “Should have had Dick ask you to start with.”

                Dick grinned, “Come on, who can say no to this face?”

                Bruce laughed, his expression lighter then before. “Just a cake, a couple gifts and us. I won’t even let Alfred decorate. Is that alright?”

                Jason shrugged, feeling cornered but strangely—alright with that. “Yeah. OK.”

                “Great. Do you uh-want to talk about the phone number?”

                Jason squirmed a little, “I figured it out.”

                “I’m sure you did. But if you ever want to talk, I’m here for you. I won’t judge and even though we can all agree I’m not the best at relationships,” Bruce smiled good-naturedly as Dick laughed in agreement, “I’ve got experience. Mostly what not to do. But, just the same, what’s mine is yours.”

                “Thanks Bruce. I’ll keep that in mind.”

                “Well, I should get going here. But I figured I’d ask if either one of you, or both, wanted to join me. Tim has a paper to write and Damian got grounded.”

                “Grounded?”

                “You missed the bit where Damian flew across the table and started attacking Tim.”

                “Oh,” Jason covered his mouth to stop a laugh, “Little brat.”

                Bruce smiled, “Yeah. He’s a treat. You interested?”

                “I’m in,” Dick rose from the couch, stretching like a cat, “but only if J-bird is.”

                Jason hadn’t been on patrol more than a handful of times since he’d moved in. Wearing the hood made him feel powerful and nostalgic, but it also brought back memories. Memories he did his best to keep quashed.

                “I uh—” he looked at Dick’s expectant face, then to Bruce who looked no less pleading, then  shrugged, “Yeah. Sure. It could be good for me.”

                Bruce clapped him on the shoulder and Dick grinned, “Fuck yeah it will.”

                Bruce didn’t bother admonishing him for ‘language’ without the demon around.

 

                Coffee.

                He liked coffee. In fact, Jason could say he loved it. Had a loving symbiotic affair with it that border-lined on being pornographic.

                His stomach was rolling and his palms were sweating when he stepped into the Daily Grind and found Lanie already seated in a booth with both hands wrapped around a mug. She was looking serenely out the windows, the sunlight catching the red highlights in her hair and she was just as devastating as she’d been two days ago.

                Jason forced one foot in front of the other, managed to get to her table without tripping then forced a smile on his mouth. “I uh, hi.”

                Lanie blinked up at him then smiled widely back, “Hey! Wasn’t sure if you’d stand me up.”

                “Yeah, sorry, I’m a couple minutes late.”

                He’d stood outside and paced for ten minutes.

                “It’s alright. I already ordered. Hope that’s alright.”

                “Course.”

                She waited till he was seated across from her, then gave him an assessing look. “You look nice. New haircut?”

                Jason blinked, “Just a trim. I don’t like it in my eyes.”

                “Is that white piece natural in the front? Like a birthmark?”

                “More or less.” Much less… “So, you want to be a lawyer.”

                “Yeah. I love the law. Everything about it. What are you majoring in?”

                “Undecided.”

                Lanie started tracing circles around her mug, “You’ve got that look about you. Part of what’s so intriguing.”

                “What look?”

                “The lost soul type.”

                Jason felt his scowl before he could stop it. “I, uh, don’t like to talk about it.”

                “That’s fine,” Lanie watched him carefully, eyes probably seeing more than Jason wanted her to, “Everyone has their secrets. Besides, you wouldn’t be interesting if I already knew everything about you.”

                He shook his head, “I get the feeling you aren’t like any other girl.”

                She smiled, face pinking, “That’s because I’m not.”

                And strangely, he liked that. He liked it a lot.

                They drifted more in conversation about schooling and the possibilities of the future. She talked about her family. She had three sisters and she laughed when he described his own. Three brothers, a butler, and a father. So much testosterone in one house it was a wonder they didn’t shred each other. She liked cats. He preferred dogs. Lanie’s favorite color was red and he barely managed to say his was too.

                By the time the Daily Grind was closing at eight, he realized they’d been talking for hours and he hadn’t even gotten that cup of coffee. He hadn’t talked this much in ages.

                Or felt so relaxed.

                That was until she took his hand in her own and held tightly as they drifted out and headed for the student parking.

                “I had a really good time.”

                Jason nodded, feeling butterflies swarm his gut at the smallness of her hand in his. “Me too.”

                “You’re really easy to talk to Jay. And very funny.”

                “Funny?” he’d never been accused of such before. He was surly, sarcastic, and definitely a smart-ass. But never funny.

                “Yeah,” Lanie mused softly, eyes slanting to him as they finally reached his bike. “My car is just a little ways down.”

                They stared at each other. Jason knew this was the part where he was supposed to lean in and kiss her. Especially because he wanted to. He really, really did. But he’d never kissed anyone before. The image of red lips and the smell of grease paint flooded his nose and Jason jerked, blinking to clear the unwelcome picture. Those kisses didn't count.

                “You alright?”

                “Yeah,” Jason nodded quickly, backing up till his ass bumped his bike. “Yeah, just tired. Sorry.”

                Lanie lifted a brow, “I’m not gonna jump you Jay.”

                Jason’s mouth fell open, “Uh—that uh—I wasn’t worried about—well uh—fuck.”

                Lanie laughed, closing the little gap between them, pressing near enough her chest went flush with his. “You’re really really cute when you do that.”

                “Do what?” his voice came out strangled.

                “Stutter and trip and then cuss like a sailor.”

                “Oh. That.”

                “Mmmm,” Lanie mused, standing on tip-toe to plant a chaste kiss to one cheek. Then abruptly the contact and heat was broken and she stepped back. He sagged with relief, then felt stupid because he wanted more. He wanted those lips on his and to forget everything but the taste of them.

                “Will you call me?”

                “Yeah,” he whispered, throat too tight to speak properly.

                “Good. I’ve got a good feeling about you Jay.”

                She didn’t say anything else, but her eyes spoke volumes. They spoke of more kisses and touches that would frighten away the bad ones. They spoke of future memories that he didn’t deserve but wanted more than anything. They spoke of hope and normalcy. Or boring good stuff. The stuff Jason had been lacking for years.

                When he drove home, Jason let himself believe in what those eyes had promised.

 

                “Happy birthday asshole!” read a note written in permanent marker with a little bag of weed taped to it. As a courtesy, there was a smiley added like an afterthought. Apparently, this was Tim’s gift to him. And had been stuffed under his door at some point the night previous.

                Jason couldn’t help himself, he smiled and then laughed when he took a whiff of it and knew it wasn’t the average stuff, but the good expensive kind. Tim had splurged on him, the ridiculous pothead. And Jason was going to be enjoying the hell out of this later after all was said and done. A party of one and a load of munchies.

                The thought warmed him immensely as he padded downstairs and found the kitchen empty except for Alfred.

                “Happy birthday Master Jason.”

                “Thanks Alf.”

                “Need any help with breakfast?”

                Alfred’s brows lifted, “Absolutely not. Coffee is on the counter and Master Bruce is already up in the study. Go wait with him. He could use the company.”

                Jason silently nodded, accepting the coffee cup offered then meandered towards the study. Bruce was in rare fashion, wearing sweats and dozing in front of the lit fireplace. Even his hair was disheveled with no attempt made to fix it. When Jason stepped in and took his seat on the opposite end of the sofa, Bruce’s eyes fluttered open.

                “Morning,” he sounded rough.

                “What time did you get back last night?” Jason asked, sipping delicately at the hot brew. It was steaming around his face and neck, obscuring his vision of Bruce.

                “Around four.”

                “Early night then.”

                Bruce sighed, “I wanted to be more alert for your birthday.”

                Jason looked sideways at his father and choked back a laugh when he saw that Bruce was frowning into the fire. “You didn’t have to get up so early.”

                “I was awake.”

                “Oh.”

                “Couldn’t sleep,” Bruce supplied, leaning forward, “Alfred’s been up since six, slaving in the kitchen, making a racket.”

                So, Bruce had been plagued with dreams then. Bad ones. But Jason wasn’t going to say anything.

                “I’m looking forward to the cake. Dick said it’s going to be made from scratch.”

                “Does Alfred ever do store bought?” Bruce laughed, eyes crinkling at the sides. It reminded Jason of how old, his old man really was. If he remembered right, Bruce would be turning forty-one in August. Not so old at all. But plenty for a man that raced across roof tops and beat criminals with his bare hands every night.

                “I’ve been keeping tabs on you at school, but I’d rather hear it from you how it’s going. So, how are you liking it? Has it been worth it?”

                Jason blinked at Bruce, then shrugged because he felt dumb for thinking Bruce hadn’t been spying on him. Of course, he had. He was Bruce.

                “It’s alright.”

                “School never was something you really enjoyed.”

                “No, not particularly.”

                “So why do it?”

                Surprised, Jason pursed his lips, “I thought you wanted me to get a degree.”

                “I want you to be happy. To find something you’ll enjoy. That doesn’t have to be a college education. Not everyone is cut out for that.”     

                “Dick went to school.”

                Bruce lifted a brow, “Dick isn’t you.”

                “Tim’s going to go to college. And you know Damian will too.”

                “And? Jason, they aren’t you. If you didn’t have to be there at school, where would you be? What else would you be doing?”

                Jason hesitated as the answer came easily enough then rolled it around in his mind for a few moments before answering. He and Bruce had had candid discussions like this before. And even though they were rare, it seemed occasionally they managed to synch up on the same frequency and everything they said to one another just worked. The feelings that were usually so thick and impenetrable because of what Joker had done and what Bruce had not, didn’t feel relevant. It just felt like he was talking to his Dad. It felt good.

                “Maybe police work. Like Dick. But I probably have to have a degree to do that.”

                “Only if you want to be a detective.”

                “I could be a beat cop without it?”

                Bruce nodded, “You’d have to go through the police academy. But I can see you enjoying that. It’s much more hands on.”

                “And less intellectual.”

                Bruce scowled, “I didn’t say that. And you shouldn’t either. Those cops are some of the smartest people I know. A degree doesn’t say anything about how intelligent you are.”

                “Hmmm,” Jason mumbled, setting his coffee cup on the end table. When he did, the oversized t-shirt he was wearing gapped at the throat and he quickly jerked it up to cover himself. Jason knew Bruce had seen had the mark because he heard the sharp intake of breath. He willed himself not to become bitter.

                “You don’t have to do that.”

                Jason ground his teeth, forcing himself to relax. It was one thing to delve into normal issues like careers and schooling. An entirely different one to mention or even think about the mark on his collar bone.

                “I—I know that.”

                Bruce’s eyes had turned to blistering embers and he glared back into the fire, his hands fisting. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to bring that up on your birthday. Joker has no place in today.”

                “No,” Jason swallowed, still clutching his t-shirt closed though he could feel the mark on his skin heating like it was being rebranded. He didn’t often think of it. He tried not to. Made himself oblivious on purpose. But sometimes there was no way around it.

                The strained feeling in the room all but vanished when they were interrupted.

                Dick slumped into the study and perched on the loveseat, “Jeez. It’s dour in here. Happy birthday Jay.”

                “Thanks,” Jason answered, his discomfort with speaking about Joker or the mark all but disappearing beneath the flood of incoming brothers. Tim and Damian weren’t far behind and when they all had taken their respective seats with each holding cups of steaming coffee, everything had settled back to a comfortably neutral place.

                Everything went soft and quiet. And peaceful. It felt pretty fucking amazing.

                Damian was pressed into Bruce’s side, trying to look like he wasn’t cuddling, but he was. Tim was tipped back in the recliner watching the group through heavy eyes with a pleased smile. And Dick, had planted himself beside Jason and purposefully slung an arm over his brother’s shoulders. It took effort not to push him away, but Jason managed after several minutes of straining.

                “This is nice,” Tim mused, eyes flickering to the fire then to the men who still hadn’t really said much. They liked it best that way. Silent.

                “Yes it is,” Bruce sighed, pressing a kiss to the top of Damian’s head in a manner that he never would have when Jason was a boy. The man had changed a great deal. And Jason was beginning to think, it was for the better. He liked this version of Bruce. This father tried so very hard to overcome his own awkward tendencies and self-seclusion.

                “Breakfast is ready,” Alfred’s voice fluttered over the com that connected every room in the house and everyone got up quickly to dive in. After all, it was Jason’s birthday, which meant Alfred had cooked chocolate chip pancakes, bacon, and fried eggs. The traditional birthday feast.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Same warnings

                Jason spent the better part of his birthday forcing himself to be social with his family. After breakfast, he opened a few gifts, did the proper ooing and awing and even thanked everyone. But after a couple of hours, he was ready to hide again. To slip back into the hole and bury his head in the sand.

                Bruce and Dick seemed to notice and didn’t stop him when he excused himself with plans of taking in a bike ride.

                The air was warm and crisp on his skin and Jason let the rumble of the engine lull him into a false sense of security as he zipped around corners and made his way to the wide grassy knoll that overlooked a lake he’d started frequenting. The fact that he liked to swim naked in it, just made sense.

                It was secluded, with heavy pines and shrubs. The water was clean and clear, making it so you could see all the way to the bottom. And Jason could watch the sun setting without anyone else watching. He could be himself.

                Roaring up beside a boulder at the trailhead, Jason left his bike and helmet, then began trekking into the woods. The trail was poorly marked but Jason was glad of it, because it meant not many people frequented his favorite spot. It was his spot after all. He didn’t want it becoming popular.

                When the small lake spread in his view, a shiny silver dollar, glossy and vibrant, Jason started stripping. He was naked before he reached the edge of the water and didn’t particularly give a damn about the quiver of bugs in the air or the possibility of a scampering animal witness.

                He dove headfirst into the lake.

                Muscles relaxed, his body sighed, and Jason bobbed to the surface with a sigh of bliss.

                Now, this, was a happy fucking birthday present.

                Smiling, Jason did a few laps around the lake, letting his muscles comfortably warm, then he paddled out to the center and let himself drift. With the water over his ears, he could only hear the gentle swish of his heart. It filled that needy void of starvation. The one that needed constant filling to be reminded he was living. His eyes fluttered closed beneath the warmth of the sun’s welcome rays and Jason felt his thoughts drain from his head like melting wax.

                He didn’t realize he’d slipped too deep, till it was too late.

                In the place between sleep and awake, Jason could _feel him watching._

_Eyes like green garnets, laughing and laughing. Fingers, rough, so fucking rough on his arms, holding him down. Tearing at his skin with nails that were slicked in blood. Breath, warm and acrid in his nose, on his skin. Lips, touching, always touching, everything. And nothing they should be._

_God, he wanted it to stop. He didn’t want this. He never wanted this._

_Panic. Cold hard panic. Sharp edges._

_Fear. So much fear. And pain, oh God, the pain was unbearable. Like being split open and gutted and then lit on fire._

                Jason thrashed a moment, water sloshing over his naked frame, body covered in thick goosebumps, mind trapped and refusing to surface.

                _Joker’s mouth was on his, it was grinding and making him bleed. It was hurting._

                “Bruce _,” Jason could hear the name whispering past his chattering lips, he could hear it. But no one was listening. He was alone. God, he was so alone!_ “Help, Bruce!”

                _Terror now. So much terror. Face pressing into the wet floor, breaths struggling past broken ribs. Eyes squeezed shut to not see. But he could hear it. He could still feel everything_.

                Water swallowed over Jason’s face and he sputtered back to the surface with a great gasp for air. Like rising from the grave again, Jason clamored with useless muscles for the lake’s edge and barely made it out. He felt like lead, too heavy to move. Exhaustion crippled him, adrenaline long gone and emptying. He grabbed at the grass, tugging his weight further onto shore, breath sobbing from his lungs, heart racing so fast he felt darkness hazy in his vision. He might pass out. And he didn’t want that. Because Joker would be waiting.

                Joker was always waiting.

                “No,” Jason whispered, still chattering, frozen with fear, “No.”

                He would not let it take over. Not now. He would not do this right now.

                He was having a fucking good day! One fucking good day.

                But then _he_ was there. Always there in Jason’s mind, waiting for a point of weakness so he could come out and play. Come out and ruin.

                Time slipped by. The sun dropped beneath the horizon and darkness fell heavy and slippery around him. Jason had long since gone still and remained immobile, his body weak and mind weary from battling. When he moved to finally sit up, his muscles protested the action and he felt drugged.

                He might as well be, for all the motor control he was expressing.

                Crawling to his clothes, Jason rummaged through his pants and found his cell phone. Sixty percent battery. Four messages. Three from Bruce. One from Dick. All worried little pricks to his chest that reminded him he was alive. He wasn’t there anymore. Everything had changed. He was different. Joker could never hurt him again.

                But he had hurt him. He’d hurt him so deeply, so irrevocably.

                Would he ever be normal again? Would he ever not feel like _this_? Weak and afraid and useless. Fucking useless.

                Jason punched in Dick’s number and waited for him to answer. He picked up on the second ring.

                “Hey J-bird, where are you?”

                “I could use a ride.”

                A pause, small enough anyone else might have missed it. “Where are you?”

                “By the lake.”

                “OK, I’m on my way. Is your bike wrecked? Are you hurt?”

                “I’m fine. Bike is too. Bring Tim so he can drive it back.”

                “OK. Be there in fifteen.”

                There was no questioning why he needed help getting home. No pity either. Just a pair of hands to help when he needed it. And Jason was grateful. God, he was grateful that they wouldn’t ask. That he didn’t need to explain it.

                When he slipped into bed that night, exhausted and worn to the bone, he found himself sitting in the dark staring at Lanie’s contact number. He idly ran his fingers over the screen as if to materialize a face with the numbers.

                **How are you?**

                **_Good:) How are you?_**

                Jason looked at the response, snuggled deeper into the pillow fort he’d made for himself and sighed.

                **Tired. Long day with the fam.**

                **_Special occasion?_**

                **My birthday…:/**

                **_Don’t like those much??_**

                **No.**

                There was a lull for about two minutes where Jason wondered if he’d been too honest. Then regretted wondering, because if anything was going to potentially work between Lanie and him; she needed to know who she was dealing. A selfish asshole with a shit ton of issues.

                **_What helps you?_**

Jason blinked at the illuminated screen, feeling his mouth thin. Nothing helped. Not really.

                **This is nice.**

**_Easy to please then._**

**Don’t expect that to hold true. My demands change frequently.**

**_…I can handle it._**

**Sure you want to?**

**_Yes_**

Simple. Honest. Jason felt his mouth flicker up into a smile. Lanie was so different than other women. So fresh and kind. So—everything. He couldn’t put his finger on the exact trait that made him willing to risk everything. But he did know that when he started to drift asleep, even as they kept texting late into the night, he was glad for Lanie’s gentle presence. Even if it was simply through the phone.

 

                Lanie sat in front of her desk and combed her long auburn hair with a mindless sort of ease, given to years of meditative calm. She liked the quiet. She liked the stillness. She liked to sink into it, until she became so apart of it that she couldn’t tell where it began, and she ended.

                Life had taught her to enjoy and take that calm. To snatch it when it came, because it may not come back again for quite some time.

                But she liked the noise too. She liked the vibrant leap of music and the pulse of the surf as it smashed into skin. She liked to paint and run early in the morning. She liked her coffee more cream than sugar and she enjoyed action films just as much as she would cry over a good chick flick. She voted third party, bought organic when her budget allowed, and wished to one day have enough money to buy herself a big old house with lots of history so she could fill it with children. And dogs. Lots of sloppy, hairy dogs.

                Lanie smiled lazily, finishing her ministrations with a delicate sigh as she stared out her apartment window and saw the drops of raining clinging valiantly. It rained so often in Gotham, it was a wonder everything wasn’t green. But she supposed there would need to be green in the first place for that to be possible…and Gotham was a network of grays and blacks, cements, metals and plastics. Not much of anything was living.

                Even so, she liked the energy of the city. And she liked the university she’d chosen. And she liked the thrum of life that burst around her here.

                And oh, how she liked Jay.

                Lanie let her thoughts localize on his face and couldn’t help the sigh that slipped from her lips as his image crystallized and sharpened. 

Jay who’d finally told her his last name was Wayne. Jay who had green eyes and black hair with a strange white stripe. Jay, who made her laugh with his caustic remarks and his bitter anecdotes. Jay, who’d been slowly stealing pieces of her heart without so much as brushing fingertips and innocent chaste kisses. Kisses that had scarcely moved past a brush of lips and on cheeks no less.

She’d never been more maddeningly aware of her own limitations. Her own lack of self-control. Not for the first time, Lanie had caught herself prepared to grasp that leather jacket and jerk those kissable lips into her own. To feel the desperate pressure she wanted to. Anything.

But each time she’d been about to, she caught that flicker of something dark and unwanted in his gaze. Something so very sharp and breathtaking, she’d never acted. It was why when Jay initiated holding hands after three weeks of texting and casual coffee hook-ups, she’d silently rejoiced. Why, when he’d teasingly brushed some hair off her face, her heart had launched into her throat and stayed there till lunch.

Why she’d been dating a man for three months and hadn’t had the privilege of actually kissing him full-on the mouth.

She was quietly, painfully, beautifully going insane.

Lanie heard her phone buzz and knew it would be Jay before looking. He’d begun to text her at certain times of the day like clockwork. Morning, just after lunch, then a steady stream of conversation till supper. Often, he’d drop off till two or three in the morning when he’d shoot a final goodnight message. Sometimes, if she was still awake, she’d text him back for a bit.

**Hey.**

**_Hey Jay:)_ **

**Wanna sneak out?**

**_Are you grounded???_ **

**Uh, no? Sort of. Got into a tiff with my uh—Dad? Complicated.**

Lanie had learned from the beginning that most things with Jay were. Beginning with his strange family. He didn’t want her to meet them, that much was clear, but he also seemed to hold a great deal of affection for them. The fact that he didn’t really call his father dad, was a big signal of home trouble. Which wasn’t a surprise. A guy as skittish as Jay screamed home trouble, or rough upbringing. But Jay didn’t talk about it. He steered clear of almost anything having to do with pain. It was something that Lanie was hoping, given time, they’d work on.

He’d share when he was ready, wouldn’t he? He obviously enjoyed being around her. He’d said so. And she didn’t think that was something to be taken lightly. But Lanie was unused to their sort of nearly platonic relationship. She was used to being wined and dined. To kissing, hand-holding, and if love came into play, then sex.

**_Why don’t I just come over? I could meet the family finally. Smooth things over with you (dad)? With my charm_.**

                **You don’t want to do that.**

**_Yes, I do. I want to see you. But I’m tired. It’s raining. Let’s watch a movie at your place._**

There was no response for twenty minutes. Enough time for Lanie to don a pair of sweats and a sweater. She braided her wet hair then slipped on a pair of thick wool slippers that had rubber bottoms in case Jay was really willing to take her up on the offer. It was just after nine on a Friday night. Early yet, but even so, Lanie hadn’t been lying about being tired and wanting to stay in. They way she saw it, she was killing to birds with one stone. 

**Fine. 63 W Auburn Ave. You won’t miss it.**

Lanie did her best to ignore the slight jab of worry she felt at having pushed him and instead focused on the victory. It was a big one.

                Grinning, she gathered her purse and keys, and used her GPS to find the address Jay had given her. When she was pulling into the driveway of a sprawling manor amidst Gotham forest and the shine of a thousand stars, she felt a tad underdressed and foolish for showing up so cavalierly.

                Then she saw the front door pop open and saw Jay trot out to greet her.

                “Wow.”

                He looked back at the manor, the slant of yellow light from the open door cutting across the gravel like a sword at his back. “Yeah.”

                “This is—Bruce Wayne’s house.”

                He shrugged a shoulder, “I don’t call him Dad, but I do call him Bruce. Or B.”

                “He’s your dad?” Lanie asked stupidly, feeling slow as Jay came to stand by her side, as per his usual, allowing a delicate brush of knuckles in a rare show of touch. It made Lanie’s stomach turn in a wonderfully slow flip. She wished he’d take her hand and hold tightly, lacing their fingers.

                “More or less. I had some pretty bad issues and he took me in this past year, gave me a place to start over.”

                Lanie recalled vaguely how the billionaire tended to gather stray orphans like a cat lady gathers cats, and wondered at the strange man. Jay was becoming more and more interesting.

                “OK,” she mused, gawking up at the manor another moment when Jay simply stared at her.

                “That’s it?”

                “Did you want me to start screaming and fangirling?”

                One arrogant brow rose and Jay smiled, “Not exactly. But I did expect more.”

                “Hmmm. I do believe there was a movie promised in this deal,” and cuddling of some sort, if Lanie could have her way.

                “There is. I uh, should tell you, that I have brothers. But they’re all busy tonight and out. Bruce won’t bug us. He’s still mad at me.”

                “Alright. Any other warnings?”

                “We have dogs. Two huge slobbering Great Danes that have no personal boundaries and a butler who will probably make himself scarce after the ‘proper introductions’ have been made.”

                She laughed at his mock British accent as she followed in behind him. The scent of polish and lemon oil filled her nose and she stood taken a back for a moment at the sheer size of the entryway. To say it was grand, would be an understatement.

                “It’s uh—wow.”

                “Yeah, took me back a bit too when I first saw everything. But Jeeves keeps it fresh and snappy.”

                “Why thank you Master Jason.”

                Lanie jerked at the warm, actually British, accented voice and spun to see the owner, standing starched and pressed like slim relic. He wore a dark suit with a tie and had an impeccably groomed mustache that was mostly white, save a few stubborn gray hairs. His head was shaved neat and tight and looked as snowy as his skin. Everything about the man oozed, culture, sophistication, and gloss.

                But his eyes were warm and soft. A delicate shade of hazel. And they said, ‘welcome,’ in a gentle no nonsense way.

                “Hello,” Lanie ventured, offering her hand. It was taken, kissed at the knuckles and then dropped by the older gentlemen.

                “Master Jason, you are being incredibly rude.”

                Jason frowned, “What?” then looking between the two, jerked like he’d been slapped, “Sorry. Lanie, meet our butler/surrogate grandfather, Alfred. And Alfred, meet Lanie—my uh—girlfriend.”

                Lanie felt her face flush at the mention of ‘girlfriend’, since they hadn’t actually ever given what they had a solid name and beamed at Alfred when the older man lifted a wicked brow.

                “I see. You are lovely, Miss Lanie.”

                “Thank you.”

                “How long have you two been dating?”

                Jay’s eyes narrowed on Alfred, but Lanie didn’t see the harm in answering. “We’ve been seeing each other for a few months. But it hasn’t been too serious.”

                She hoped that would nullify the irritation she saw brewing in Jason’s gaze.

                “We’re going to watch a movie.”

                “I’ll get you some popcorn,” Alfred offered softly, stepping around Jay to walk down a long, carpeted hall, before pausing to look over a shoulder, “Drinks?”

                “Cokes, thanks Alf,” Jay answered for both of them, already knowing by now her preference for anything sugared. If Lanie was going to eat sugar, she wanted the real stuff.

                  “Shall we?” Jay offered after the butler left, one hand extending to her. Lanie gratefully took it, winding their fingers together with a small satisfied smile on her mouth. His skin was warm and calloused and swallowed hers. When he took her into a large room with a giant screen on one wall and a projector hanging from the ceiling, she tried not to laugh at the sudden awkward feeling of having stepped into another realm.

                Lanie was about to watch a movie in Bruce Wayne’s house with his sort of son and eat popcorn his butler made. It couldn’t get further from her sedate, middle-class suburban upbringing.

                “Something funny?”

                She shrugged both shoulders helplessly, plopping into a recliner as Jay took the other. “This is all a little crazy. Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

                “About Bruce?”

                “And everything,” she gestured at the home theater.

                “It might have made things weird. I wanted to give it time. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a bit of a private person.”

                She snorted, “No. I didn’t notice at all.”

                Jay grinned, white teeth flashing in the shadowy light, “I’m glad you’re here.”

                “Me too.”

                He looked at Lanie a moment longer, eyes lingering on her mouth like they’d done time and time again, then fell away. Lanie felt the sting of disappointment and shoved it away. He would move, given time. She merely had to be patient. Lanie knew a kicked dog when she’d seen one and she wasn’t about to spook someone that had clearly been wounded before. The man was downright afraid of physical touch.

                And Lanie had gotten to the point that she was alright with that. For now. But she was also hopeful of what the future could be.

                Would be. If just given time.

                Jason flipped through movies, they argued till settling on Armageddon, classic end of the world thriller, then settled into their respective recliners when Alfred brought drinks and popcorn. Lanie did her best to focus on the movie for the first hour.

                But it was a difficult process.  

                Especially when Jay took her hand and strangely started drawing patterns on her skin. It was maddening to her pulse. Her breath got short and raspy and she prayed that he didn’t notice how much such a little touch could set her skin on fire. She’d been operating on scraps between them and these small touches, made her feel—lightheaded. Elated. Cherished.

                She knew that when Jason touched her, it meant more than any man before him. Because of what it cost him to do it. She wasn’t sure what exactly had happened to him, but she was beginning to appreciate the little things. To savor them.

                “You wanna come over here?”

                Lanie blinked into the dark, unsure if she heard Jay right over the dramatic overlay of music and her pounding pulse. “What?”

                Jay’s expression was shadowed, but she could see his mouth thinned and his throat working. “Do you wanna squeeze over here? With me?”

                Right over there? Practically in his lap? Lanie bit her lip, studying Jay for any signs of fear or regret, then slid over the small barrier between their recliners and settled into Jay’s side, before he could change his mind. She barely fit and it was tight, but every inch of her right side was pressed into every inch of Jay’s left.

                It felt—divine. Heat engulfed her. His smell, cedar, the faint hint of cigarettes and leather from his jacket.

                “Is this OK?” Lanie asked, voice tight.

                “Yeah,” he said quickly, but his own voice was darker and rough. If that was because he was as affected by her nearness or if he was struggling with wanting to push her away or both, Lanie couldn’t say. She was too lost in her own enjoyment. Lost in the feel of his body so close and warm. So warm on hers.

                Minutes ticked by and Lanie felt Jay relax in increments. Soon, his weight shifted and he’d draped an arm over her shoulders. She could feel his breaths expanding his ribs. She could feel the steady thump of his pulse against her shoulder as she tucked subtly deeper into what he was offering. She hadn’t been paying attention to the last thirty minutes of the movie.

                “Lanie—”

                “Hmmm?” she hummed, eyes barely open, happiness oozing out of her every pore.

                “Would you—I mean—would you want to--.”

                Lanie stiffened, twisting away abruptly to give him space. “Do you need me to move? Am I bothering you?”

                “No, no,” Jay stammered, eyes suddenly dark and wide on her own, face inscrutable with so little lighting. “I just—I want to--.”

                Lanie’s heart skipped hard in her chest. “Kiss me?”

                “Fuck, this so much harder than it needs to be.”

                “This is fine Jay.”

                Jay snorted, “Sure. I’m fucking this up. It’s all I’ve been able to think about for weeks and I’m fucking it up.”

                “Jay,” Lanie quieted him by reaching forward and dancing fingertips down his cheeks. He went still immediately, a trembling breath brushing her lips. “You aren’t fucking it up. Not unless you don’t kiss me.”

                “OK,” he whispered, “OK. Yeah.”

                Lanie smiled, waited for his mind to kick back in, then watched as someone impossibly dark and in control took over Jay. His mouth wasn’t hesitant when it found hers in the dark and it certainly wasn’t soft as it demanded passion and desire from her. She answered without thought, hands tangling in his hair, mouth greedy as she took what he gave and gave back heartily.

                This man was nothing like the Jay she’d been dancing around for months. This one was dangerous. Dark and wicked. His touch was firm and warm, but not hesitant. His mouth, confident and controlling. Strong. He was strength personified and Lanie was drowning in him. It felt good to be drowned.

                When Jay pulled back and started peppering her face with wet butterfly kisses, Lanie felt herself sink further into oblivion.

                “Jay, my God.”

                He laughed, and it was husky and warm. “Yeah, about what my mind is doing.”

                “I knew you were holding out on me.”

                Jay’s mouth closed back over hers for one kiss. Two more. Lingering and tasting. “I’ve been wanting to do that for so long.”

                What was unspoken was that he’d been too afraid. That something had held him back and would still likely try to hold him back. Lanie couldn’t make herself care.         

                “I don’t have any idea what’s going on in the movie.”

                “I don’t care,” Jay murmured, biting and kissing at her jaw.

                “Maybe we should stop.”

                He stilled, breath hot on her throat, “Am I doing something wrong?”

                “No. Exactly the opposite. You keep doing that, I won’t stop you. And I’m not sure you wouldn’t regret it later.”

                There was a soft inhalation, then Jay was extricating himself from Lanie, his eyes downcast and face flushed. “Sorry. I should be more careful.”

                “No, Jay. Don’t apologize. That was wonderful.”

                His brows lifted, haughty attitude returning full force with strained lightness, “Not bad for a first kiss, eh?”

                His? Or theirs? Lanie was afraid to ask. “It was—mind blowing. You need a license for that mouth.”

                The smile he gave her was bright and unmarred with worry. It warmed her thoroughly.

                They sank into one another, hands threading together, shoulders brushing. Lanie tried to focus on the remainder of the movie but ended up counting breaths, tracing the veins in hands that were rough and large on her own. She stole precious glances of Jay’s periphery, the long column of his throat. The aquiline nose slightly off center from being broken. His hair was soft as silk and she found herself wanting to reach up and card her fingers through the obsidian pieces. To finger and memorize that patch of white hair that marked him different. That marked him unique in a sea of same.

                But she didn’t want to spoil his willingness to touch with too much, too soon.

                The end credits began to roll and Lanie sighed into Jay, wondering when or if this strange sort of physical treaty between them might end. When he might freeze up and start to withdraw.

                “Good movie,” Jay said, stifling a yawn. Lanie smiled up at him, aware of his flickering gaze that kept dancing to her eyes than back to their joined hands if he didn’t quite believe what he was seeing.

                “I wasn’t paying attention.”

                His laugh was warm and deep, a low rumble in the darkness of the room.

                “Should we turn the lights on?”

                “I don’t want to move.”

                Jay’s lips were at her ear, a soft whisper of touch. “Me either.”

                Adjusting herself, Lanie delicately draped herself over Jay inch by inch, watching his face for fear. He stiffened when her arms wrapped around his waist, then exhaled sharply as she placed the shell of her ear over his heart. His pulse was fast and strong, a threading rhythmic brush that softened every female desire she had into an aching lull.

                “Is this OK?” she whispered, aware that Jay was holding his breath. His skin was warm enough to be felt through the gray t-shirt he was wearing and Lanie let herself absorb it, reveling in the carefully restrained strength she could sense.

                “Yes,” Jay spoke roughly, his voice just above a rasp.

                “Your heart is beautiful.”

                Lanie inwardly cringed at how stupidly romantic and corny that had sounded, but Jay’s soft sigh of breath said that he appreciated the sentiment.

                “Sometimes, in the dark at night, it helps me fall asleep.”

                Lanie hesitated, “Your—pulse?”

                “Yeah.”

                “How?”

                Jay’s fingers found her own, the rough callouses making Lanie’s stomach flip a little when they grasped and then moved them. He drew her fingers to his neck, pressing lightly to where the blood thrummed quickly, still in a state of unrest, then sighed into the contact, when she found what he meant. Fast, fluttering blood rushed just under the surface, vibrant and solid.

                “You do this often?” Lanie felt something inside her chest tighten. And it wasn’t a feeling of softness from love. It was—broken. Like she had just been given access to something painful, though she didn’t know what.

                “It helps me relax.”

                Lanie tried to picture it. With her fingers kissing his throat, she imagined him lying in bed, hand on his throat, counting the beats of his heart to help his mind still. And the ache in her chest grew deeper. She didn’t like the lonely image.

                “Do you have trouble sleeping?”

                She felt the pulse skip under her fingertips.

                “Sometimes.”

                “Bad dreams?”

                Jay swallowed and Lanie could feel it on her hand. It was a strangely intimate sensation. “Yes.”

                “I’m sorry Jay.”

                He laughed, and the sound made her toes curl. With her ear on his chest, the rumble was like being drawn down to a comforting blanket in the woods beneath endless sunny skies. Welcoming. Warming. She wished the laugh was happy and not self-deprecating.

                “Me too.”

                “Jay?”

                Jay shifted, discreetly removing her hand from his neck as he sat up bringing Lanie with him. She hesitated as his eyes, so green and clear found her own.

                “Will you tell me about what hurt you?”

                Jay face remained expressionless. Only the sight of his hands curling into fists in his lap gave any indication that he was distressed by her question. Lanie didn’t know why she was pushing this now. Particularly when they’d made so many bounds in this night alone. But suddenly, she needed to know that eventually Jay planned on sharing what had hurt him. If he didn’t, could they ever have a future together? Was she already thinking about that?

                She’d only just kissed the man.

                But she’d been falling in love with him for months. Three months.

                It wasn’t that big a stretch to wonder what their future might hold, was it? And if a future could be possible if he was unwilling to let her see him. Really see him.

                “Jay?” she tried again, trying smile, but failing.

                “I don’t know.”

                “OK.”

                He frowned, brows drawing low, “I may not ever be able to.”

                “To share?”

                He nodded stiffly.

                “Even given time? Lots of time?”

                Jay started to shrug a shoulder then made a frustrated sound in the back of his throat, “I don’t know Lanie. The stuff you’re asking of me, it’s not a fucking walk in the park.”

                “I know.”

                “You might look at me differently. No,” he hissed between clenched teeth, “I know you would.”

                He broke off contact between the two of them and pushed to stand. Lanie knew he’d reached his max of touching and didn’t try to take his hand again when she also stood. She didn’t want tonight to end on a bad note.

                “I know it wouldn’t change how I feel about you. At least not for the worse.”

                He gave her a dark look, eyes flashing with violent pain. “You have no fucking clue what you’re talking about.”

                “Jay, I only want to know you.”

                “You do know me.”

                “Do I?” she asked softly, resisting the strong need to touch some part of him. He looked like an angry cornered animal and she hated it. On one hand, she didn’t want to push because she was afraid of it. Afraid of losing something so good and beautiful. But on the other, Lanie knew what she could and could not handle. She knew that her patience could only last so long before she needed more. She was a realist. It was simple facts. However cold and unyielding they might be.

                “You know enough.”

                “I like everything I do know. But I want to know more Jay. I need to. Eventually.”

                Those eyes had lightened to such a soft color green they nearly looked gray. That mouth was flat and twisted into a glare dark enough to cut flesh. And still, Lanie knew it was more for his protection than it was about hurting. She knew pain when she smelled it in the air and he reeked of it. A vicious, horrible sort of pain that brutal to witness.

                “What if I can’t?”

                Lanie cast him a considering look, aware he was trying to shove her in a direction she didn’t want to go. “We’ll figure it out when we get there. Right now, I just want to know that you’ll try.”

                “Lanie, I don’t—God, you have no idea what it is—it’s nothing like the fucking movies.”

                “I’m sure it’s not.”

                “No rainbows. No pretty bows over the packages. It’s fucking bloody and disgusting. And broken. It’s ugly. I don’t know if I want to show you all of that.”

                “I can handle it.”

                “What if you can’t?”

                She could hear the underlying question beneath it. What if you can’t handle me? Her heart broke a little more for him. “I won’t run Jay.”

                “You should,” his voice broke, uneven and jagged and Lanie took two steps to be closer before seeing his posture go rigid.              

                “I don’t—we shouldn’t touch right now.”

                “I know.”

                “It’s not you. I’m upset right now. I don’t want to--.”

                “Jay,” Lanie stopped him, lifting a hand, “I understand. You don’t need to apologize. You’ve been upfront about the touching since day one. You’ve actually been upfront about all of it from beginning. And you warned me off. But I’m still here. That should say something. I’m interested. I’m—invested.”

                “Invested…” those verdant eyes had darkened and held hers captive.

                “Yes. You’ve grown on me Jay. Immensely so. I care about you. Deeply. And I like where everything is going. So yes, I am very invested.”

                “I see.”

                “Does that bother you?”

                Jay blinked at her, his coloring pale now. “I don’t know.”

                “Do you want me to go?”

                His eyes jerked to hers, “No.”

                “OK. Good. I don’t want to leave when we’re like this.”

                He nodded, but didn’t make any move to reclose the gap between them. Instead, he brought the lights up then left through the open theater doors as if he wanted her to follow. Lanie tagged along silently, aware of the tension between them. Thick and uncomfortable. Aware that Jay’s breathing wasn’t even and his hands were trembling when they pushed open another set of doors that took them out onto a veranda overlooking a sweeping garden.

                Immediately, the smell of gardenia and jasmine scented the air. Lanie inhaled softly, eyes fluttering closed when she took the place beside Jay at the rail he’d stopped.

                “It happened a long time ago.”

                Lanie’s eyes fluttered open, but she didn’t say anything. Jay was speaking distantly, his words clear and concise, but clearly his mind had faded into the background. Reliving whatever horrors made him so afraid.

                “I have vivid memories of it all. The pain. The humiliation. The blood.”

                Lanie’s fingers clenched vise-like on the concrete rail, surprised at the tug of nausea that suddenly clenched her gut. An image of Jay bleeding and frightened was not something she wanted to see. But she _needed_ to understand.

                “Have you gotten help?”

                He laughed, humorless and empty, “There is no help for someone like me.”

                “Maybe not. But if you don’t try, how will you know?”

                “I know that I’ve been having nightmares for years and I still wake up feeling like it happened just yesterday. Lanie,” he blinked out of the foggy haze, a sliver of reality creeping into those haunting eyes, “I’ve done terrible things. Things you would hate me for.”

                “You don’t know that,” but Lanie’s hands were cold with sweat.

                “I do,” he whispered, “Because I hated myself. Most days, I still do. If I let you in, I can’t take it back. Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”

                Yes. She understood he was giving her an out. He was letting her choose now if it was worth the possible pain she might experience for wading in. And in that moment, Lanie knew that she loved him.

                She was in love with Jay.

                Her heartbeat thundered in her ears, loud and frightened and strange. She wanted to move, wanted to say all the right things, but all she could manage was a weak nod. Jay made a hissing noise and it burned the night with regret, then he was kissing her again. Warm lips that sought comfort and hope. And Lanie gave it freely, unable to stop the answering call like she’d been doing it her whole life.

                “Lanie,” Jay’s lips danced over her own, feather light and trembling, “I’ll try. God, Lanie I’ll try. I want to.”

She felt the whip of happiness just as strong as the urge to cry. Because Jay was afraid. He was afraid of being ruined by her. And Lanie wasn’t certain she wouldn’t be his ruin.

His hands framed her face, drawing her back till he could rest his forehead on her own. His skin felt feverish. “Say you’ll stay when I push you. When I try to run and inevitably fuck this up…please say that you’ll stay.”

                Lanie felt lightheaded and weak, but she clung tighter, wanting nothing more. “I’ll stay.”


	4. Chapter 4

                Weeks blurred by as Jason dropped out of university and found himself applying for the Gotham police academy. He’d upped his hours in the gym and had begun spending almost every patrol night out with Bruce, remembering all the things he’d loved as a boy about being in the Bat family.

                The grime and grit. The flash of red and blue lights with the siren blaring in your ears. The sweat that mixed with blood and pride after a long night with no end.

                Jason had missed it. He’d missed the muscle memory of working tandem. He’d missed the fire in his muscles and the pull of breath as he rushed over rooftops and tore apart alleyways. He’d missed standing beside Batman, daring the filth to scream.

                “Jason! Get your ass down here.”

                Jason lifted a sardonic brow, one hand still holding a cold burrito he’d nabbed from the fridge for lunch, the other a handful of Doritos. “Busy.”

                “If stuffing your face is considered busy, then I’m going to kill you. I need a hand. Get your ass over here.”

                “Why?” Jason growled around a mouthful of beans, pushing back from the Bat console to glare menacingly through the slatted metal at Tim. “Can’t you do anything on your own, Replacement?”

                Tim’s reciprocating glare was half-as vicious but equally promising of violence. “I’m not carrying all this shit up by myself.”

                “NMP.”

                “What?”

                “Not. My. Problem.”

                “Fuck you!” Tim hissed, “If you don’t get down here and help, I’m going to tell Bruce who ate those cookies Alfred specifically made for him. I’m going to tell him who broke that Ming vase in the upstairs hall. And who poured kool-aid in his hair dryer. And—”

                “Enough you little brat!”

                Tim’s smile was triumphant.

                Putting down the burrito and chips, Jason descended the stairs to the lower level and found Timothy standing in front of a massive stack of boxes. “What the hell?”

                “Bruce asked me to bring out all the hard copy files for the last ten years for reorganizing.”

                “He’s going to reorganize all of _this_?”

                “Yup.”

                “Holy fuck.”

                “Well,” Tim shrugged both shoulders, “There’s a reason Batman’s archiving system is the best in the world. He knows his shit.”

                “Meticulous and paranoid doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

                Tim snorted, “Yeah, well, he’s the boss. And he wants all this moved upstairs for cataloging before it gets refiled into the archive safe he had built on the main floor.”

                “Gotcha,” Jason huffed, grabbing a stack of boxes off the floor with a grunt.

                They worked silently, moving stack after stack up the long column of stairs until both of them were peppered in sweat and Tim looked like a red tomato.

                “Thanks,” a loud dramatic sigh after a swig of bottled water then, “So, how are you and Lanie?”

                Jason laughed, “That was the most worst segue I’ve ever heard.”

                “Sue me.”

                They stared at each other, eyes warring in shades of verdant and robin’s egg, “It’s going.”

                “Not gonna expound on that?”

                Jason considered Tim a moment, wondering how he’d ever gotten roped into a heart to heart about the one good thing in his life, with the Replacement. “Not really. No.”

                “But it’s going good?”

                “Who put you up to this?”

                “No one.”

                Jason lifted a brow and Tim finally shrugged a shoulder.

                “Alright, Dick.”

                “Of course.”

                “What do you expect? Our family isn’t exactly known for sharing feelings and Dick just wants to make sure you’re happy and doing good. I mean, we’ve never met Lanie, but you’ve been dating for like three months?”

                “Four,” Jason corrected automatically, rolling his shoulders as if to rid it of something obnoxious. He didn’t like the pressure from Bruce’s constant wary gaze without adding to it with his brothers. Dick was one thing. He understood Dick. Tim? No. He didn’t like it.

                “See, that’s a long time. You should bring her over for dinner. Let Bruce meet her.”

                Jason’s right eye twitched, “I’ll think about it.”

                “OK, good. Wanna help me with something else?”

                “What?”

                “Bruce wanted me to help Alfred with the leaves out in the yard too. He said it was too big of a project for ‘a man of his advanced age’ to handle on his own.”

                Jason’s brows furrowed as he pictured the landscape and all the leaves that covered it. “Don’t we hire people to do that shit?”

                “Well, yeah, you’d think. But no. Bruce said it was good character building. Part of training.”

                “Right. Where’s the little demon?”

                “He’s supposed to help too.”

                “And Dick?”

                Tim pursed his lips, “He texted me that he’d help when he got off work. Until then, we’re on our own.”

                “God, I hate being a part of a family.”

                “No, you don’t,” Tim grinned widely, swinging an arm up to wrap Jason’s waist. And for once, it didn’t feel awkward or forced between them. “You love us.”

                Maybe he did. But only a little.

 

                The leaves didn’t get fully raked up till after dark and they’d all worked up a sweat fierce enough to have Alfred wrinkling his nose in disgust over dinner. Bruce remained silent, a small smile curving his mouth, his eyes distant. He didn’t say much, but he didn’t have to.

                _Character building my ass_ , Jason mused darkly. More like more brotherly bonding exercises. Apparently, he deemed this one a success.

                After dinner, they all filed out for showers and split up.

                It was a ritual that had become second nature and no one said anything when Jason slipped back outside to smoke a cigarette. They were used to him disappearing and not saying anything. So it wasn’t a surprise.

                Outside, hair still wet and dribbling freezing water down his neck into his hoody, Jason pulled out his pack of cigs and took his time lighting it. It burned yellow gold for a brief moment, then kept him company as a slight smudge of red for the remainder of his walk. He walked languidly, eyes half-mast, stride long and sure. Feet crushed over gravel pathways and the sound of crickets hummed in his ears.

                He’d never been fond of outside time before, but now, he didn’t feel right without having gone outside at least once a day. Outside for the sake of being out. Not to patrol or to work. Just to be out and alone in it.

                He supposed it had something to do with being dead and buried in a box. Or something.

               The city lights washed out the stars, but Jason liked to imagine them. He liked to picture the haze of the milky way until he felt small and insignificant. Until the world felt more manageable and less. Just less.

                Most days, everything was so loud. So rushed and pushed. When he ended it out in the gardens, the lazy trail of a cigarette tinging the night sky, his world managed to contract back to a size he could handle. And then it started all over again come morning.

                But he was getting better at it. He was getting better at handling all of it.

                Jason let himself picture Lanie. Auburn hair, honey eyes, long lashes. And then he let himself imagine her here, with his family, meeting Bruce…and it didn’t feel as bad as it had before when Tim had said it. He could see it easily enough. Laughter, merciless teasing, good food, maybe even a stupid corny board game and then Lanie would smile that smile that made his toes curl and he’d kiss her in the hallway outside his room. He’d press her into the antique wood paneling, taking his time with the kiss, tasting and teasing until everything shrank so small it was only their breathing. Only the sound of their hearts thrumming wildly in their ears.

                And then he’d what?

                Jason’s eyes opened slowly, and he realized he’d stopped at the fountain. He’d stopped and had his eyes closed, the cigarette hanging limply in his fingers. He’d been imagining a scenario that was too perfect for reality. One where _if_ he wasn’t, who he now was, might have happened in another world and another timeline.

                But he was _this_ Jason. And this Jason wouldn’t kiss Lanie in the hall and then take her to his bedroom. He wouldn’t make love to her in the shadowy darkness of his room, ignoring the other souls that hid within the walls. He wouldn’t bare himself, showing everything, because it was easy and simple to do so. Because he loved her and that was what you did when you loved someone.

                You stood naked in front of them. You took what they gave you and you weren’t afraid of it. Because that was normal.

                But he wasn’t normal.

                The cigarette fell to the gravel and Jason ground it out, a sour taste ruining the lingering smoke in his mouth.

                He’d been avoiding these thoughts since he’d started dating Lanie. He’d been trying not to think too far ahead, to let be, let be.

                But God, he wanted her. Didn’t he? He wanted her, all of her. From the top of her head to the bottom of those candy painted toe nails. He wanted to feel her against him, skin to skin, and not feel that dreaded panic closing in around him. He wanted something he wasn’t going to have. And it scared the shit out of him. It made him feel cornered and frustrated and angry.

                And there was no one to blame for it. Not really. Joker was locked up. Bruce was—well he’d stopped blaming him. He had. But still, he wanted to blame someone who he could put his hands on. Who he could hurt.

                “Hey J-bird, whatcha doing?”

                Jason stiffened, back to the manor, eyes still caught on the rhythmic flow of the fountain, though he hadn’t really been watching it. He’d been nearly catatonic for the last ten minutes, trapped in his thoughts with nowhere else to go.

                “Smoking.”

                “You don’t have a cigarette.”

                “I finished.”

                Dick was at his side now, hands stuffed into his pockets, face carefully blank. “Need to talk?”

                “No.”

               Silence. One breath, two. Heartbeats. One, two, three, four.

               “Maybe.”

               “OK…”

                Jason sat heavily on the fountain’s ledge and realized with a wry smile, that he and Dick were starting to make a bit of a tradition out of talking at this fountain. If he went to the fountain, would Dick always meet him here? Thinking he needed someone to spill his guts to?

               He wouldn’t put it past him.

              “I’ve been thinking about inviting Lanie over for dinner.”

              “That would be nice. We’d all love to meet her.”

              “I’m sure you would.”

              “That worries you?” Dick asked, brows lifted in surprise, “You know we wouldn’t try to scare her off or anything. We’d welcome her with open arms.”

              “I’m not worried about that.”

             “I see,” Dick smiled, crinkles forming at the corners of his eyes, “Well, not exactly. Maybe you could tell me more.”

             “Or you could just keep guessing.”

             “Ha-ha.”

             Jason worried his bottom lip, kicking his feet in the gravel like a toddler on an exam table then finally shrugged a shoulder. “I want to take the next step with Lanie but I’m not sure if I can.”

             Dick lifted a brow and Jason snorted.

            “Obviously, I _can_ , at least physically. Emotionally—that’s something else.”

            “Now I see.”

                They fell quiet, the air around them just chill enough to make Jason shiver and he said nothing when Dick offered an arm without being asked. He’d have done it anyways. Still, Jason was surprised he felt no revulsion or fear when Dick tucked him into his side. He felt only—safe? Warm.

                It was a different sensation than what he was used to, and it should have made him feel anxious. Itchy. Desperate to be rid of it, because he didn’t understand it. But that wasn’t the case. He liked the heavy weight of his brother’s arm over his shoulders. He liked feeling secure, right there, against Dick who had always been there. And always felt like he’d remain.

                He was going soft.

                It made him smile.

                “If you really want to, then you should have a frank discussion with Lanie about it.”

                “I can’t imagine how that conversation is going to go.”

                “Uh, ‘hey, babe, I want to have sex. But I might freak out, so be patient with me.’ Or something like that.”

                Jason snorted, laughter wringing its way from his chest. No one else could joke about this and not get socked in the face. Only Dick was allowed to do it and for the life of him, Jason had no idea why. It just didn’t bother him.

                “Seriously, it doesn’t have to be elegant or complex. Just tell her what you’re feeling. Tell her how it might go down and what to do if it goes badly. Then—go for it. You won’t know, unless you try. And if sex is something you feel ready for, then I’m betting Lanie is ready too.”

                “Yeah,” Jason whispered, stomach bottoming at the prospect of actually going through with it.

                What if all he saw was Joker? What if he panicked every time or in the middle or at the end when everything was supposed to be loving and warm and hazy? What if he hated Lanie because of it? What if she began to resent him because he couldn’t do it right? Because he was somehow less of man because of the demons in the dark?

                Fear, vise-like and thick wrapped about his throat and made him want to choke. Made him want to wretch and Jason struggled silently to control it. Nothing was said. Nothing really changed in Jason’s posture, but he supposed it didn’t need to. It was understood.

                Dick’s arm tightened over his shoulders and Jason let it. For several seconds, it was just the breath in his lungs and the beat of his heart. Still alive, still present, still alright.

                He was here. He was here, right now. Not then. Never then again.

                Lanie was the woman he loved. Wasn’t she? He loved her. He really did. What else could possibly explain this all-encompassing feeling? This sensation like someone was sitting on his chest in an entirely weird but good fucking way?

                Love. It was supposed to be love. Unfettered. Uncomplicated.

                Jason thought of Bruce. Of his brothers. Alfred. He loved them all. But it was really fucking complicated.

                Love would never be uncomplicated for him.

                “You don’t have to.”

                “I know.”

                “It’ll work out Jason. It might be hard. But it will work out.”

                Jason drew in a ragged breath, filled his lungs with the cool air and whispered secrets, then sighed into Dick's shoulder, “I’m going to ask Lanie over.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any mistakes grammatically or what-not. I wanted to get this out since it took me forever to upload. I've got the next chapter already mostly done, so I'm excited to get that one up too. Thanks for reading!

                She had a dinner invitation to the Wayne manor.

                Lanie smoothed both hands down the softly pleated skirt she was wearing, turned in a circle in front of her full-length mirror, then strode angrily back to her closet. She didn’t like anything in her clothing arsenal.

                It was the curse of any female on the planet.

                Nothing felt formal enough. Everything felt too formal. Nothing looked chic, or flattering, or sexy enough. Or it was all too sexy.

                Lanie wasn’t usually the type to over-analyze her clothing but tonight, she felt like a mess of nerves and neuroses. She’d changed so many times that her entire closet was unfolded and piled onto her bed in a wreck of jeans, skirts, and cardigans. The shower she’d lavished over, shaving, and primping, and preening, had apparently been a waste of time because she was now peppered in sweat.

                “God, this isn’t a big deal,” she hissed, choosing a pair of dark-wash jeans at random. They were a favorite and she’d gotten compliments wearing them before. For the shirt? She was rapidly running out of time and was very tempted to simply toss a sweatshirt on. But that would be too casual.

                And it would send the wrong message to the Wayne family.

                Frumpy? Uninteresting? Loser-ville? Check. And not what she wanted to portray in the least.

                Lanie wanted to appear put together but also friendly and warm. She wanted to look the part while still being true to herself. And she wanted to impress Jay. Though he’d said on more than one occasion how he liked anything she wore. Then again, he also seemed to favor her in sweatpants and a hoody…so that wasn’t saying much.

                She settled on a long-sleeve dark green blouse, threw on a pair of simple flats then booked it out the door with only minutes to spare. It wasn’t a quick drive out to Jay’s house, so she needed to leave on time.

                By the time she pulled into the circle driveway, Lanie had managed to calm her thrumming heart to a dull roar in her ears. It wasn’t as though this was her first time meeting the ‘parents’. But this was different on so many levels. This was Jay’s family. These were the people he’d been hesitant for her to meet even though they’d been dating for four months already.

                It felt like a big step. A step in the direction of something more permanent.

                And it felt really damn good.

                Alfred greeted her at the door, a warm familiar face, and the tightness in Lanie’s stomach edged down a tick.

                Until she was greeted by the man of the house, Bruce Wayne. He was every bit the same as the glossy photos posted all over tabloids and social media. Tall, dark, and handsome. But they hadn’t managed to capture the subtle lethality to his gaze that made her want to squirm when he visibly sized her up before speaking. There was no trace of the playboy ditz in his gaze. Only fatherly warning and a healthy dose of knife-like censure.

                “Lanie,” he offered a hand and it swallowed her own. Like father, like son. Big, rough hands appeared to run in the family. “Pleasure to finally meet you.”

                “Yes, it’s a pleasure.”

                Jay came bounding down the stairs before Bruce could say anything more, and Lanie’s heart did its usual skip in her chest when she saw him. In one long stride he had her hand in his, meshing their fingers together, gripping them hard, and Lanie very nearly reached up on tip-toe to kiss him hello. It would have felt natural to do so. To share that intimacy they’d been enjoying over the last month but Jay wouldn’t have appreciated the audience.

                He was as terribly private as he was careful. She respected it and instead, leaned heavily into his side to inhale the smell of fresh soap, leather, and just a touch of cigarette smoke clinging to him. It was a combination strictly belonging to Jay.

                “Hey,” he smiled softly, eyes dancing over her hungrily.

                She felt it too. That strong yearning pull to touch and be touched as much as possible, as quickly as possible. It only seemed to grow the more they shared and learned about each other. But it made her feel blushy and awkward with Bruce standing only a foot away.  

                She smiled back, doing her best to ignore the probing gazes, “Hiya back. I’ve missed you.”

                Jay grinned, “I’ve missed you too.”

                “Disgusting.”

                Jay’s eyes narrowed at the young man you sauntered into the entryway and Bruce cleared his throat.

                “Damian, that was rude.”

                “Sorry.”

                Jay shook his head, “Demon, meet Lanie. My girlfriend.”

                Damian, the youngest Wayne, from what Lanie remembered, offered her a cursory glance, then shrugged both shoulders, “She’s pretty. Too pretty for you.”

                Lanie choked on a laugh and a slightly murderous look passed through Jay’s eyes when he narrowed them on his brother. Bruce sighed as if this sort of verbal outburst was a regular occurrence and then a slightly older boy came down the stairs and waved at her. It was a never ending train of Waynes.

                And Lanie was feeling just a touch overwhelmed by all the masculinity in one space.

                “Hi, I’m Tim.”

                Lanie smiled, “Yes, I’ve heard about you. Where’s Dick?”

                “He’ll be here soon. He had to work.”

                “Oh. Is that everyone then?” she really hoped so.

                “Yeah,” Jay looked at the boys, then at Bruce before clearing his throat, “Alfred is making homemade margherita pizza.”

                “Sounds delicious.”

                “It is.”

                “Yes, well, if we’re done with the introductions, I had plans to annihilate Timothy in Mortal Kombat. Father?”

                Bruce waved a hand, “As long as you put it up when Alfred says it’s time for dinner.”

                “Cool,” Tim smiled, “Nice to meet you Lanie.”    

                “How about a drink in the study for the adults while we wait? I’d love to get to know you Lanie.”

                There was something so very simple and yet so very implicit about the way Bruce offered, it never occurred to her that she was still being measured. But she was. Jay stuck close to her side, saying little when they got comfortable in the study and he pressed into her side on the leather sofa. Bruce took a high-backed chair near the lit hearth and looked every bit the regal blue blood he was.

                “So, Lanie, Jay tells me that you two met in school.”

                “Well, we met outside of school. In between classes.” The hand still wound in hers tightened a little and she smiled. “It was lucky.”

                Bruce’s eyes flickered over Jay then back to her, “What are you majoring in?”

                “Law.”

                “You want to be a lawyer? Do you have a specific area of law you prefer?”

                “Yes. I like criminal law right now, but that’s bound to change. It’s early yet.”

                “How about your family? Siblings?”

                “Bruce,” Jay made a warning sound beside her, “It’s not an interrogation.”

                Bruce’s smile was reflexive and very much the playboy for a brief moment, but there was something dangerous in his eyes and not warm in the least, “I’m sorry. I get carried away. I just want to know as much as I can. Jay hasn’t dated anyone seriously in quite some time and clearly, you’re something special.”

                “Jesus, old man.”

                If Bruce was fazed by Jay’s use of language, he didn’t outwardly show it. “So,” Bruce took a sip of the club soda he’d poured himself, posture still relaxed and unbothered, “Siblings?”

                “Yes, I’ve got three. All sisters.”

                “Sounds nice. Your parents are still married?”

                “Yes,” Lanie smiled, trying not to laugh when the two men did another non-verbal argument with their eyes. Bruce opened his mouth to ask another question but was stopped when the study’s pocket doors were pushed open.

                “Hey, sorry I’m late. I got caught up at work and got here as fast I could.”

                Lanie turned at the new voice but was being hugged by a pair of strong arms before she could fully register the newcomer. She caught the scent of bubblegum and leather then she was being blinded by a wide grin and bright blue eyes.

                “Hey Lanie. So nice to meet you!”

                “Dick, personal space.”

                The final and oldest brother Dick. He laughed, with absolutely no restraint and it was infectious. She immediately relaxed. “Come on Jay, she isn’t going to melt. Besides,” he gave her arm a squeeze, “She’s family now.”

                Lanie tried not to let her stomach flip but failed miserably. It felt…nice to hear that. To know that she was more to Jay and that it was recognized by his family.

                _“Supper is ready.”_

“Was that an intercom?” Lanie mused, aware the room had gone deathly quiet after Dick’s comment.

                Bruce was the first to speak and he unfolded from his chair with a sigh, “Let’s eat then.”

 

                It wasn’t going exactly like he wanted it to, but it was going.

                Jason kept a hand on Lanie’s for most of dinner and attempted to act as normal and in his element as possible, but it was a struggle. His skin felt tight and he was sweating, despite the chill in the manor. He wanted to take Lanie to the side and explain what was going on inside his head, because it felt big. It felt too big for his brain to wrap around. And he couldn’t think right with all of it clogging everything up.

                She fit in here.

                She laughed with his brothers and took their ribbing with ease. She didn’t shrivel under Bruce’s narrowed inspections and she made Alfred smile when she teased him lightly about his cooking. She just—she worked well here. But of course, she did.

                Jason didn’t know why he’d ever been worried that she wouldn’t. Or that someone might not approve. She was Lanie. She was sweet and innocent and gentle. She had corny jokes and was down to earth. She wore her hair more pulled-up than not and liked to chew juicy fruit gum in excess.

                She was into nerdy movies like Star Wars and Coneheads and she liked to warm her cold feet under his legs when they watched them together.

                Lanie was free-spirited and kind. She didn’t take a strong stance on much, but when she did it was with conviction. And it was for a good reason. She didn’t like violence but understood the need for it on occasion. She was fair. And liked the lines between good and bad to be more gray than black and white.

                Lanie was—she’d become something so intrinsic and special to him. He didn’t think he could ever cut her out of his life. He’d hemorrhage and suffer. He’d not survive. The realization was more than just a little unsettling, it was like stepping off a cliff with no parachute.

                He loved her.

                God, he was in love with her.

                Forcing a smile to his mouth, Jason poked at his salad that Alfred had insisted everyone partake of and felt his heart stutter in his chest. It felt—painful to feel like this. Vulnerable. Frightening.

                He didn’t know if he liked it. But it was, what it was.

                He loved her.

                She had become such a part of himself in only four months, it should be more than just frightening it should be terrifying. He shouldn’t be feeling like this when she didn’t even know everything about him. He’d done terrible things and she didn’t know the half of it. Who he really was? She knew nothing.

                He’d purposefully kept those parts secret.

                But how could he keep those secret hidden places of himself secret when he wanted to show her everything? When he wanted to make love to her until the sun peeked in through the windows and everything grew soft and hazy?

                He didn’t want her to ever know.

                _Filthy boy. She’ll never want you when she knows._

Jason bit his lip, blinking through the words that didn’t belong in his head or in that voice. They weren’t his.

                “Are you alright?”

                The whisper was half-pressed to his ear and he jerked back, startled out of the trance. Lanie was leaning into him, hand warm in his cold fingers. Her brows were furrowed, and those hazel eyes were worriedly flickering over his face.

                “I’m fine.”

                “You sure?”

                Bruce’s gaze carefully danced away from them, but Jason knew that he was listening. He was checking in, ever watchful in his vigil. 

                “You know what? Let’s go for a walk. I need some air.”

                Lanie frowned at him, “OK.”

                They didn’t excuse themselves from dinner, but nobody said anything when he took Lanie’s hand and they escaped out the kitchen door. They’d been eating family style at the dining table in the heart of the house, like they would when they didn’t have company. Lanie wasn’t supposed to be company so it suited them. She suited everything so goddamn well.

                Outside, the air was so chill it burned his cheeks and nose and he wished that he’d remembered to grab jackets for the two of them. Instead, he huddled closer to Lanie, throwing an arm over her shoulders to warm her. The crunch of their shoes on the gravel was grounding but not enough that he didn’t reach into his back pocket for his smokes.

                Stopping for a moment, he lit one up and ignored Lanie’s wrinkled brow. He’d never smoked in front of her, though he imagined she knew. He didn’t smoke more than a couple a day, but that shit clung to clothing and hair. She’d have smelled it on him before.

                “Are you really OK Jay?”

                “Fine,” he inhaled deeply, tasting the menthol like it was candy, then blew it all out long and thick, “Just a little jittery.”

                “I’m sorry.”

                Jason shook his head, keeping their pace brisk to compensate for the roiling in his stomach. “It’s not you.”

                She smiled up at him, giving him a sideways glance, “It’s not you, it’s me, eh?”

                “Something like that.”

                They walked quietly for a spell. Studying the dark gardens, letting the sliver of moonlight wash over them in graying tones. The air smelled like snow was coming. It was quiet and cemetery still, the waffle of clouds slanting over the sky blurring the stars into soft gray. There was a slight tinge of pink to the sky to the north where Gotham’s heart lay.

                “Dinner was good.”

                “Alfred is a genius with pizza.”

                Lanie laughed, “I meant with your family. I like them. They’re all so—animated and different. Dick is hysterical. And Damian is so sharp and witty. Tim, a sweet kid. Big heart. I even liked Bruce. Though he’s different than I pictured. Younger maybe. More shrewd.”

                “Yeah,” Jason agreed, “He isn’t like the magazines, that’s for sure.”

                “It was obvious how much they love you.”

                Jason snorted, “Yeah.”

                “Really. They care. It showed. I like that.”

                Jason paused beneath the yawning arms of a naked oak tree and stared up through the gnarled branches, blowing smoke out the side of his mouth. “I need to talk to you.”

                He could feel Lanie’s hesitation. The little pause in her breath as she considered him, and he wanted nothing more than to soothe the worry out of her. But he needed to get this out. He needed to just let the shit fall where it may, so he could deal with the consequences. Because it was eating him up.

                “I’ve done some stuff Lanie.”

                “You said that before.”

                He looked down and found himself staring into moon-drenched eyes that looked strangely all-knowing. She could be a goddamn fey creature if he didn’t know any better. He swallowed thickly, reaching out to touch a cheek that looked like porcelain. He wished he could see her freckles, so he could know that she was real. That she wasn’t as perfect as she looked right now.

                “Terrible things. Illegal, bloody, horrible things.”

                She stared at him, then slowly nodded, “OK. Why are you telling me this?”

                “Because I need you to know.”

                “Jay, you can’t tell me anything that’s going to make me run.”

                “Oh yeah?” he breathed, but it came out in a half-growl, “I’ve killed people.”

                Her eyes widened, but her mouth merely flattened. Something like disappointment and pain flashed in their depths but she said nothing. She did nothing. She didn’t even back up from him.

                “God Lanie,” he felt something suspiciously like tears climbing up his throat and he stabbed them back viciously, “What are you doing with me?”

                “I—” Lanie took a shaky breath, eyes fluttering closed and it damn near ripped Jason’s heart out of his chest, “I love you Jay.”

                When he just stared at her, she shrugged helplessly then her face crumpled.

                “What?”

                He took a step back and he knew he was gaping at her now, mouth hanging open stupidly. He’d dropped his cigarette and it burned like a tiny seedling of hope between their feet. One wrong move and it could be crushed out.

                “I said that I loved you.” But her voice shook, and she sounded sad. She sounded lost.

                “Wow.”

                She flinched, and Jason wanted to take the word right back. It hadn’t come out right.

                “You don’t have to say it back. I know that you may not feel the same way and that’s OK, I didn’t say it, so you would feel pressured or anything. But I felt like it needed to be—”

                “Lanie,” he cut her off, grabbing her by the arms, probably too hard because his chest was aching, and his pulse was roaring in his ears and his control was slipping like sand through slotted fingers. He couldn’t focus. “I love you too.”

                _Breathe in. Breathe out. One heartbeat. Two heartbeats. Three._

                The look on her face was nothing short of stunning.

                From bewildered to soft acceptance, to blinding joy. It was hard to breathe watching it. It was hard not to smash his mouth against hers and forget everything else especially the bit he’d said about killing people. Because he didn’t want this to end. He didn’t want her to see him differently or for her to change her mind. He wanted _this_ more than he’d wanted anything.

                God, it was frightening. It was exhilarating.

                She loved him back.

                “Lanie,” he took a step nearer, took a chance and pressed his forehead against hers, “You can’t love me.”

                “I can.”

                “I’m not a good man.”

                Warm hands reached to touch his face and Jason jerked, surprised by the touch because he’d closed his eyes. Her fingers were gentle and strong on his nape, drawing his mouth down to hers, pressing their lips together so seamlessly. She tasted like pizza and Lanie. She tasted like hopes and dreams and forgiveness. Like something he didn’t deserve but wanted so fucking much.

                They kissed lazily, edging towards passionate until Lanie drew back and bit her lip. “Jay, what you did, it’s in the past. I don’t believe in looking backwards. Not on this. You’re a better man now.”

                He opened his mouth to argue, to explain more but she silenced him with a finger on his mouth.

                “No. You are. I can see. I can feel it every time we’re together. You love your family. You do your best. You—” she hesitated, brushing hair off his forehead as she stood on tip-toe, “You’ve paid for what you’ve done. I don’t know it all. I don’t know if I need to know, but I can see that you’ve paid. What we have is new and clean and special. It’s not a part of what was before,” she sighed into him, suddenly pulling him in tightly so her ear was on his chest, her arms like bands of steel around his middle.

                “Does any of that make sense? Or am I just talking out of my ass?”

                He laughed, hugging her back, shaking his head, “I don’t deserve you.”

                “Yes, you do.”

                “I don’t see how.”

                “You don’t need to.”

                “Lanie…” Jason felt weak-kneed and thin. But he’d invited Lanie over for more than just to meet his family. He’d done this, all of this, because he wanted to share something with Lanie he’d never shared with anyone. At least not willingly. “I want…I want more with you.”

                She stiffened a little, spine going straight, shoulders tightening under his hands. He closed his eyes tight, forcing himself to stay close.

                “Physically? Is that what you’re saying?”

                Jason swallowed thickly, tangling a hand through her hair, feeling the silken pieces tickle his palm, “Yes. I want you. But—there’s some things I need—we need to talk about.”

                Lanie gripped him harder, “We’ll go slow.”

                “Yeah,” he exhaled sharply, something like relief and fear making him lightheaded, “I need to go slow. And things might freak me out. I don’t know what or how. I can’t—I don’t want to fuck this up Lanie. God, I don’t want to lose you over this.”

                She pushed back and scowled up at him, “Jay you would never lose me over something like that.”

                His jaw flexed, then he forced the words out of himself and they felt like glass in his throat. “I want to have sex with you, I just don’t want it to be bad.”

                “If it’s bad for you, we don’t need it.”

                He laughed, but it wasn’t funny. It sounded angry and hurt. Like a trapped animal and he wanted to back up and away from Lanie. He felt so naked and exposed it was making him itchy and panicky. “You say that now, but you don’t know. A year from now, five years from now, not having sex is going to get old. You might change your mind.”

                “I won’t.”

                He rolled his eyes, “That’s unrealistic.”

                Lanie lifted a brow and folded her arms over her middle, “Are you trying to run me off Jay? Do you think you’ll succeed if you keep pushing at me? If you keep threatening me with what ifs and endgame horrors?”

                “I don’t know.”

                “Yes, you do.”

                He turned to the manor, shoulders pinching in an effort to dispel the sensation of spiders on his skin, “This is just—it’s all really complicated. And its confusing in my head. I want you so badly I feel sick one moment and then when I’m close and I’m with you, the terror,” oh, god, he was letting it all out. Diarrhea of the mouth. “it’s so overwhelming I don’t even know how to describe it. It’s not just you I’m worried about. Alright? I don’t want to hurt you. And it’s not an if I’m going to. It’s a when. I hurt people. I always have.”

                “Jay, I can take it.”

                He spun on her, boxing her in, letting his size and muscle intimidate until she understood exactly what he meant. He may not always act like it around her, but Jason wasn’t someone who fucked around. He’d killed people with his bare hands and hadn’t batted an eyelash. Lanie didn’t understand that, said it didn’t matter, but when the chips were down, she needed to understand. Because he’d seen and done some evil that no one should forgive.

                “You think so? What if I lose my temper? What if I don’t see you,” he swallowed, voice sounding strangled, heart so close to snapping out of his chest he was getting weak abruptly again, “what if I see _him_?”

                It was the first time he’d ever alluded to anything about his torments. The first time he’d given it a gender let alone spoken of it. He knew Lanie wouldn’t have missed it, but there was something inside him that wanted to take it right back.

                Her voice was just a whisper when she answered. “You wouldn’t hurt me.”

                “Lanie, sweet Jesus, you don’t know that.”

                She nodded slowly, grabbing his shirt, smoothing a hand over his cheek, “I do. I know it. Deep in my bones. You wouldn’t hurt me. Corny as that sounds, it’s true. I just know it.”

                “I—” all the wind in his sails, all the arguments were fizzling in his brain. He just _wanted_ to want her and not think about it. He wanted to just touch. And take. And not worry. Not fear. “I love you.”

                “I love you too, Jay.”

                And it sounded so good. It sounded like wine on her lips and when he dipped to taste the words, it tasted even better. She melted in his arms and he took the kiss just a tick further than they’d gone before, delving those hands under her shirt, feeling her smooth stomach and the scorching heat of her skin. His hands were shaking so badly he felt like a fucking idiot, but damn he was alive. He was breathing. He was here, in the present and it felt _good._

“I want—I want to make it special.”

                Lanie smiled against his mouth, drawing back, looking hazy and red-lipped, “I want that too.”

                “OK.”

                She shook her head, peppering his face and neck in his kisses so sweet they should have made his teeth rot. They merely made him dizzy and jelly-legged.

                “Soon,” he breathed, tightening his hold on her, “very soon.”


	6. Chapter 6

 

                “Tonight?”

                “Yeah, it’s tonight.”

                “Wow, dude. That’s exciting.”

                “Stop looking at me like that.”

                “Like what?”

                “You’re making me sweat. I don’t want to sweat right now. Fuck, Dick, get out of my room.”

                “When are you leaving?”

                “Twenty minutes. Get. Out.”

                “Do you need a hug?”

                Jason spun from his mirror, reached reflexively for his waistband for his gun but grabbed nothing but air. Luckily for Dick who’d been standing in his doorway for the last fifteen minutes doing nothing but jabbering his ear off. It wasn’t helping anything. If anything, it was making him more anxious with a layer of agitation to boot.

                “Dick,” Jason smoothed both hands down his face and carefully avoided his hair. He’d actually tried to do his hair. Sort of. “I don’t need this kind of distraction right now. I need to get in the right headspace. And this,” he gestured at Dick with a angry wave of his hand, “is not helping. Get out.”

                Dick winced, “Oh.”

                “Just, give me some space.”

                “Alright, but I gotta say one more thing. Just because I’m your big brother and you sort of missed any kind of sex talk with Bruce, ya know, because you weren’t here and all—.”

                “Spit it out Dickie.”

                “You need condoms?”

                Jason stared at Dick for a full minute before laughing and then he slammed his door on his stupid brother’s face. Of course, he’d thought of condoms. Of course, he’d had them stashed in his nightstand drawer for the last month collecting dust because he’d literally been thinking about this night that long.

                Hell, he’d been thinking about it for a lot longer than that.

                Just not always with anticipation.

                Grimacing, Jason surveyed himself with one last fleeting glance in the mirror and decided he passed. He wasn’t supposed to look any different anyways. Was he? Fuck if he knew.

                Jason took the stairs two at a time and revved the engine on his bike when he peeled out of the garage. The drive into downtown Gotham was fraught with traffic and horns blaring. The clouds hung low and the smog was stifling. The smell of brine was strong coming off the grayed-out bay and Jason could hear the whir of cranes hefting their payloads like groaning old men.

                He wove in and out of traffic, got flipped off by a couple pretty little sportscars when he got too close on purpose and sped headlong down Tory Avenue to the parking garage that was nearest Lanie’s little apartment. He’d parked here a hundred times, paid the meter-maid for a couple of hours then walked off. But this time, he stopped at the kiosk, stared at the digital numbers and felt his stomach bottom out.

                He wasn’t going home tonight. Presumably, he’d be staying overnight. Here on 2384 Tory Ave Apt. 4, with Lanie Marie Thompkins. In a little one-bedroom apartment with a spotty furnace and a tiny kitchenette that needed a paint job.

                Jason swallowed thickly, reached into his pocket then swiped his debit card to pay overnight.

                When he reached Lanie’s apartment, his stomach felt better, but his chest was tight. And he wanted a drink. Something strong and smooth.

                Lanie answered the door on the first knock.

                And she looked—magazine glossy perfect.

                And she shouldn’t have been.

                Not with a messy bun tangling her auburn hair. Or a pair of yoga capris tight on those slightly generous hips. Or a baggy tank-top that showed the purple sports bra she was wearing underneath. She didn’t have any make-up on. Or very little of it. He could see all her freckles, dotting her nose and neck. The tops of her shoulders.

                She smelled like dish soap and rose water.

                Clean and crisp and good.

                Warm.

                “Hi,” she murmured, taking him in just as slowly, her eyes going from the toes of his scuffed boots to the top of his head.

                “Hi.”

                He stepped inside, pressed a kiss to that unpainted mouth and sighed when she nipped delicately at his bottom lip.

                “You smell nice.”

                She smiled up at him, then stepped back with a flourish at her kitchenette. “I made lasagna.”

                “That smells great too.”

                Lanie laughed, pressing a hand to her face as if to dab sweat off of it. “I was cleaning like a madwoman before you got here.”

                “Yeah?” he could see it. Her dashing around her apartment, picking up throw pillows. Tidying her books into the shelves that were always draped on every surface. Soaping up those dishes, then tossing them madly into the dishwasher. It explained the smell of dawn soap on her skin.

                “You know I’m kind of a mess.”

                “I like messy.”

                She scrunched her nose, “You like clean. I’ve seen your room. Tidy.”

                “How do you know I don’t rush around cleaning before you come over too?”

                Lanie laughed and it was easy and light, not a trace of anxiety hiding within it. Jason’s chest loosened.

                “Here,” she stopped after a breath, eyes sparkling, “Let me have that jacket then you can help me get the salad ready.”

                He made a face.

                “Hey, don’t knock the greens. They’re good for you.”

                “I think it’s all a conspiracy. The government’s way of population control.”

                Lanie grinned, tossing his leather coat onto the sofa then meandered into the little excuse for a kitchen. The smell of thyme and rosemary was mouth-watering and Jason could pick up the scent of garlic bread just above it all, making his stomach grumble.

                “I think I’ve died and gone to heaven.”

                “Wait till you taste it. It’s an old family recipe.”

                “Mmm,” Jason hummed, accepting the knife and cutting board she handed him. He started cutting up the carrots she offered wordlessly, while he watched her clean and break romaine. She looked at home in the kitchen. Like it was easy.

                “You didn’t need to cook for me Lanie.”

                “I know. I like cooking. Besides, my mama always said that the best way to a man’s heart, is through his stomach. Or so the old cliché saying goes.”

                “You’ve already found the way to my heart.”

                And oh, how that sounded corny as fuck. He’d never have imagined he’d be caught dead saying anything like that until this moment. But Lanie only smiled and they finished fixing the salad in time for the little chicken buzzer by the stove to go off. She’d already set the coffee table and they took their plates to it with socked feet shuffling.

                Lanie flipped on the TV to some snappy sitcom, one that had already been on rerun for who knows how long, but Jason wasn’t even watching. He was too busy forcing himself to eat and not think. His mind was already trying to jump ahead to what was next before he’d gotten a damn bite of food into his stomach. Lanie was trying to make this special. To make it slow and relaxed. But part of Jason just wanted it over with, so he could relax. So, he wasn’t sitting on the edge of his seat waiting for it all to go wrong.

                “I think I’ve seen every episode of Reba and I swear, this show still makes me laugh.”

                “What?” Jason looked up from his lasagna and stared blankly at Lanie.

                “The show,” she pointed mildly at the TV with her fork, “Reba?”

                “Oh, yeah.”

                Lanie smiled, “Jay, I said we’d move slow.”

                “Huh?” he swallowed thickly, “Yeah, I uh—just distracted. Sorry.”             

                “Don’t overthink it.”

                He quirked a brow, “I’m not.”

                “OK.”

                He sighed, putting down his plate, then turned to face Lanie fully. “I don’t want to pretend like I’m not thinking about having sex with you for the entire evening, sweating and freaking out, just to end on a sour note. I’d rather just—” he cringed, “Just get it over with.”

                Lanie stared at him for a moment, opened her mouth to say something, then laughed.

               

                She supposed maybe she shouldn’t have laughed. Not when he was looking so pale and bewildered. Not when he’d just said he wanted to ‘just get it over with’ like he was going to his execution. But it was either that, or cry. And she didn’t want to cry.

                So Lanie laughed, she put down her plate of food that she’d spent hours making, and then smiled at the man she was in love with. A man who loved her too and wanted to share something special with her.

                Even if it terrified him.

                She’d never been in such a position before. She’d never had to be. And it was humbling. And it was scary, because she wanted it to be good for Jay. She didn’t want him to feel badly. She didn’t want this to be another sour experience sexually for him which could push him even further into the hole.

                But at the same time, Lanie felt so _much_. She wanted to trace all the lines on his body. She wanted to savor and touch and to give so much that maybe it was too much and that scared her too. Because Lanie didn’t want to frighten him away.

                He was very much a terrified wild thing, staring madly at her like she was the hunter and she desperately didn’t want to be that hunter to him.

                “Jay, I love you.”

                He frowned at her, “I love you too.”

                “If you want to have sex now, then let’s have sex.”

                He blinked a few times, then a light pink color started to creep up the collar of the black t-shirt he was wearing and stained his cheeks. “I, uh—OK.”

                Lanie fought the shiver that rushed down her spine when she reached for Jay’s hands and tugged him to his feet. He was so much taller than her, so much bigger, and yet, in this moment, he seemed frightened and small. In so much need of someone to help him. She prayed she could do this justice.

                They went to her bedroom, silently padding down the tiny hall, just past the bathroom to where she’d set out little tea lights and had just tucked in freshly cleaned sheets.

                Her room wasn’t plain but it didn’t have a lot of décor either. She liked woodland photography so it scattered along her walls in blacks and whites. Her comforter was deep garnet and the pillows onyx. The sheets were soft and jersey knit.

                Lanie let go of Jay’s hand to move around the room and light the candles. They lit the room in soft flickering orange and the scent of vanilla started to waft around them. Jay hadn’t moved.

                “Jay?”

                He blinked down at her, eyes large and distant.

                “If this is too much, at any time, you tell me and we stop.”

                “OK.”

                “I mean it Jay.”

                He nodded, eyes suddenly sharpening as they drifted down her frame in hungry little jerks. Lanie’s skin flushed under his perusal and she carefully stepped nearer to press her mouth to his. He answered the kiss easily enough, tenderly taking his time, then moving to her neck to trace the column of her throat and then lingering on her pulse that fluttered wildly beneath his lips.

                “I love you Lanie,” he breathed soft, so soft it was more a prayer than a whisper and Lanie closed her eyes, savoring Jay’s heart in those words.

                They undressed lazily, taking their time, tracing scars and pressing kisses to skin that was new and soft and warm. Lanie paused when Jay flinched and took her time when he went so still she thought they would need to stop.

                But they didn’t stop.

                And it was lovely, and it was more special than even her wildest dreams could have conjured. Jay undid her with those trembling touches and those unsure kisses. He bled love and pain with those hitched breaths and the sighs of unknown pleasure.

                She could feel how sacred these moments were. He was giving her something rare. And she felt more than loved. She felt honored he’d chosen her.

 

                Morning.

                No bright sunlight spreading over bedspreads with downy yellow fingers to wake to. But rather a cold gray mist that filtered in through Lanie’s bedroom window and shadowed the two lovers like a cottony blanket. Chilly, secluded, secret.

                Lanie stretched, feeling her muscles ache in places she hadn’t felt in quite some time and smiled lazily when she felt the heavy drape of an arm around her middle.

                He’d stayed.

                Jay was pressed into her back, his nose by her ear, breath tickling her neck with soft snores of contented sleep. His skin so warm on her own, she was tempted to put out a leg from the comforters just to cool down. But she didn’t dare move. Not when she was so boneless and comfortable.

                Not when she had Jay so close to her.

                There was a sigh, a mumble of words that Lanie couldn’t make out, then Jay tugged her in tighter and nuzzled the back of her head.

                “Why are you awake?”

                Lanie bit her lip, “I’m an early bird.”

                “Ew.”

                She laughed, turning in Jay’s arms to press a kiss to his chin, then his mouth as it dipped to meet hers. His eyes were still closed but his mouth worked fine.

                “I can make us breakfast.”

                “No,” he grumbled, gripping her hard, “You’re warm.”

                “So are you. Too warm. I’m overheating.”

                A low chuckle rumbled from his chest to hers and Lanie shivered, liking how it felt on her skin. To think she’d made love to this man…

                “What sort of breakfast can you make?”

                “Pancakes?”

                “I like pancakes,” Jay murmured, eyes still closed, breath still tickling, “Coffee? You have that too?”

                “Of course.”

                “Mmmm.”

                Lanie smiled, pushing a little to extricate herself. This time, Jay let her, rolling back over to flatten on her mattress, face down. She didn’t know how he could breathe let alone be comfortable doing that, but it sure looked cute.

                Grinning, Lanie stopped off at the bathroom for a quick freshen up, then headed for the kitchen to make pancakes and coffee.

 

                He found her in the kitchenette, singing to Arethra Franklin like a goddamn hallmark movie, looking like a boho queen in boxer shorts and a tank top with fuzzy slippers. She sashayed her hips, used one to close the silverware drawer, then did a little crab dance with two forks before turning to face him.

                “Oh,” she jerked a little, then smiled widely, eyes bright green this morning rather than hazel, “you’re up.”

                “You promised pancakes,” Jason’s eyes dipped to the coffee pot, “and coffee.”

                “Then you shall receive both. Sit.”

                He obeyed, taking the stool at the bar when she plopped a plate of steaming pancakes and cup of black as sin coffee in front of him.

                “Bon apetit.”

                “Thanks.”

                He cut into the cakes and started eating, pausing only to sip on his coffee. Jason wasn’t a morning person. Even at the best of times. Even if he’d just had the best, if only, sex of his life with the most beautiful freckled woman in Gotham. He still didn’t like to talk for the first thirty minutes of being conscious.

                When he’d polished off the pancakes, Jason took his cup of coffee and refilled it at the pot before giving Lanie his full attention. She was doodling in a notebook on the bar, scribbling little caricatures that looked suspiciously like him.

                “Lanie.”

                She looked up, eyes a little sleepy, face soft. “Yeah?”

                “I know I said it last night. But—thank you.”

                Lanie grinned, “Jay, it’s not like I was a martyr. I certainly got something out of the deal.”

                “Well, yeah. But we both know you had to walk me through it.”

                “You held your own.”

                He sighed, putting down the mug to wrap her in a hug that was probably too tight. Jason had never felt like this. So warm and loose and—open. Like he couldn’t put up the shields he was used to wearing every day. It was strangely liberating at the same time as worrying.

                There were slender hands slipping under his t-shirt, exploring the skin on his stomach lazily and he leaned into the touch, welcoming it.

                In the dark of Lanie’s bedroom, he’d let himself go, little by little until he’d been stripped so bare he’d felt as though he’d even lost his skin. He’d been a bleeding gaping wound, desperate for affection and human touch and Lanie had given him everything. She’d touched and tasted and moved him. Made him feel more whole than he had in ages.

                Had he ever felt so whole? Ever so vibrantly alive with her skin under his mouth and her hands on his back?

                No.

                The answer was pitifully easy.

                He pressed his lips to hers and let his mind drift, purposefully forcing his thoughts to dissociate so that all he could do was feel. Last night, he’d been so scared, Lanie had done all the pushing. She’d been the one to guide and to lead.

                In the light of dawn, with coffee still warming his mouth and the taste of pancakes on Lanie’s lips, he wanted to steal this moment and let it be his. Jason wanted to have her again.

                The ache of want grew so sharp, his hands were already picking at her clothes, his mouth working down her neck. Lanie was soft and pliant, delicate. She moved with him, wrapping those long legs around his hips when he urgently picked her up and used the countertop as a shelf.

                She hummed in approval and he felt more of himself slipping. He felt the emotions clouding at the edge of his mind, right alongside the desire, and he ruthlessly pushed them away.

                Why the fuck was he having trouble now, when only a handful of hours ago, he’d powered through everything? Where was the wall, the separation, the guard to the lock that belonged on his past?

                If he was going to be in control, emotions couldn’t slip in. Not when he needed to remain here. In the present. He didn’t want to slip and fall headlong into who was outside the walls.

                There was laughter, far off, and distant in his mind. _Knock, knock. Who’s there?_

                With Lanie arching under his touch and her mouth making him so hot he needed these goddamn clothes off, he was choking back groans. He was too hot. Feverish. He needed to breathe. Everything felt close and tight. The walls felt nearer. The room felt small and cramped.  

                Stepping back, vision hazed, Jason tugged on his t-shirt and got it over his head then dove back in like a man who’d merely come up for a quick breath of air.

                But his mind was already fracturing, his thoughts skipping between Lanie surrounding him and the clown who was racing in the hallways in his head, slamming on the doors, banging for entrance.

                The kiss deepened, the angle changed, and Jason was gripping the countertop hard to not think about those hands that were tracing his spine. Soft fingers, not rough. Gentle tracing, not hard scraping nails.

                “Jay?”

                He froze at her neck, lips still poised at the pulse which danced, body taut like a bow. “Yeah?”

                “You’re not OK.”

                “I—” he blinked into the space over her shoulder, brought himself incrementally back to the moment, right now, and swallowed, “I’m fine. I’m OK.”

                His hands were shaking. His mouth was filled with cotton and he felt like he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t get in a deep enough breath to stifle the laughter ringing in his ears.

                “What did I do?”

                “Nothing.”

                That heat had never left but it was flushing his face now, making sweat pepper his brow and neck. He took one step back, then two, pushing a hand through the tangle of his hair to force his gaze on Lanie.

                God, she was beautiful.

                Disheveled. Rumpled clothing. Red mouth and bright eyes.

                She looked even better in the warm glow of morning than she had beneath candles.

This wasn’t fucking fair to her. She deserved better. She didn’t deserve sloppy seconds or whatever this was. She didn’t deserve a man who drifted off when he kissed her because there was a fucking clown laughing in his head.

He wanted to want her without also thinking of everything before her. He wanted one to exist without the other.

                Jason’s eyes darted to Lanie and he clenched his fists until his nails cut into his palms.

                Still sitting on the counter, Lanie looked small and frail.

                “I did something.”

                “No. That isn’t how—” Jason cleared his throat, “That’s not how it always works. Sometimes, it just—it sneaks up on me. Sometimes there isn’t any one or anything at fault.”

                It sounded stupid when he said it out loud. It sounded weak.

                Lanie watched him a moment, a frown drawing those auburn brows down. Slipping off the countertop, she drew nearer, hesitant, careful. He let her and felt tension bleeding away in slivers. She didn’t look angry with him. She looked worried. Which wasn’t much better, but it was something.

                “Can I touch you?”

                Jason snorted, looking away from her suddenly as a wave of something foul rolling in chest made his eyes water, “You shouldn’t have to ask.”

                “Yes, I should. Everyone should.”

                When he kept silent, Lanie’s soft sigh drew him back to her and he found his hands grabbing her own, guiding them to his bare chest. He pressed one of her palms to his sternum, using hard pressure to keep himself focused. In the moment. Always in the moment.

                Lanie’s eyes were on his, wary, seeing and not seeing. They stayed frozen for several breaths, the thump of Jason’s heartbeat between their skin grounding them together. Then she reached a burning finger to the mark on his collarbone, a scraggly J, and stopped on it.

And he knew, that she knew who’d done that to him. That it was a marking of ownership and permanent pain for him.

Her eyes widened as they flashed up to his and he saw something like horror and then stark- naked pain.

Her touch felt scorching. Fear trembled and clawed at him, memories of the burn and the laughter and the smell of flesh melting beneath an iron made him want to recoil so desperately it was nearly unbearable.

But God, he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to run away from her.

His eyes slammed closed and he took several deep breaths to control the wave of panic that had no place where Lanie was concerned.

                She tried to draw back. To rip her hand away, because God knew she could see so easily what this was doing to him, but he grabbed her wrist and held it tight.

                Because he was a fucking masochist?

                No, because he _wanted_ her touch burned over the top of the pain. He wanted Lanie’s imprint desperately more than he wanted the puckered claim the Joker had given him.  

                He breathed through the worst of the panic, ignoring Lanie’s presence save the hand in his grip, the thumb on the J, then slowly let himself back open until he was staring down into those hazel eyes. Staring into a soul who was so clean it should hurt to be near him. His pulse was still pounding in his ears and he felt shaky and weak. But he was here.

                He was still standing here and that was more than he could have hoped for.

                “I can’t talk about that.”

                “OK,” she was whispering, eyes shimmering with—tears? Fuck, it made his stomach cramp. He didn’t want her to cry. Or to hurt. Or to worry.

                “It’s—”

                She shook her head “You don’t need to say it. I understand.”

                “I don’t want to think about him when I’m with you.”

                “I know.”

                Jason pulled Lanie back in, pressed his mouth to Lanie’s and felt the quiver bone-deep. And it wasn’t fear this time. It was gratitude. Love. Absolute loyalty and trust.

                “We don’t have to--.”

                “Please,” he whispered against her mouth, now feeling desperation overcrowd everything else. He _needed_ Lanie to wash Joker away again. He _needed_ to be reminded of what he’d already managed to forget. Her skin, her smell, her touches. He _needed_ it all. “I want this.”

                “Jay, you don’t need to prove anything to me.”

                “It’s for me,” he stuttered out, pressing open-mouthed kisses to Lanie’s shoulder, memorizing the freckles that made him think of sunshine and laughter, “It’s for me Lanie.”

                “Be sure Jay. I never want to push you.”

                He shook his head, tangling both hands into her hair, tugging her up to her toes to crush their mouths together.

                Only Lanie. It was only her now. And God, it was good. And he _needed_ her.

                He needed her while the memories had slipped back into their box. Before they came back out again.

                “I’m sure.”

 

 

                “It was good.”

                Dick lifted a brow, delivered a series of deadly blows to the punching bag swinging between them then snorted when Jason didn’t elaborate. Jason had no intention of going into details about he and Lanie and what they did in bed.

                “Alright, don’t kiss and tell.”

                “Not my style.”

                “Figures.”

                Tim was stretching on the mats beside them, nearly folded in half but clearly listening in. He sat up and frowned at them. “Have you met her family too?”

                “Yeah.”

                “What?” Dick stopped hitting the heavy bag and frowned, “You didn’t say anything.”

                “It wasn’t a big deal. They were nice. It was a quiet dinner at a little Italian place in Metropolis on a weekend a couple months ago. Haven’t seen them since.”

                “Months?”

                “Yeah, so?” Jason growled, feeling his agitation with the twenty questions starting to rise. He didn’t come to the Batcave for pillow talk and fucking gossip. He came here to burn a few hundred calories and sweat. He came to _not_ think. Or rather, not overthink.

                He’d had sex with Lanie a total of four times. Each time had been special. Each time, a little different or varied and Jason was OK with that. He liked that it was slow. That they didn’t need to have sex every time they saw each other and that it wasn’t expected of him. It took work for him to push the demons out and though he really enjoyed it, like a fucking lot, he also had to be in the right frame of mind. Lanie seemed to be fine with that.

                For now.

                “Meeting the family is generally a big deal.”

                Jason shrugged a shoulder, then pushed Dick out of the way so he could have a go at hammering the heavy bag. Tim had popped to a stand and lingered nearby. He smelled a little like the afters of a really good dooby. Jason was a little jealous. He could use one about now.  

                “Where’s the demon?”

                Tim lifted a brow, “Coming down in a few. He said he wanted to work on his grappling with B before patrol. Speaking of, you coming? Been a couple days.”

                Jason glanced up at the clock on the wall. He could spare a few hours. He didn’t have anything better to do. He didn’t officially start at Gotham Police Academy till Monday and he had a bit of excess energy to work off.

                Better than giving in and asking Tim for some of his pot stash anyways.

                “Yeah.”

                Dick let Jason slip into the mindless drone of punches and kicks, for a handful of minutes until Damian came bowling down the stairs with a studiously quiet Bruce trailing after. No one said anything to anyone, but Jason felt everyone’s probing stares.

                They were all measuring him like he was going to start ripping heads off or something. Which was ridiculous. Because he was completely in control and not freaking out in the least.  

                He was fine. Everything had gone well between him and Lanie.

                Was currently going well.  

                And he refused to blush knowing that his entire family was aware of his now non-virginal status. So, what if he and Lanie had graduated to having sex? It didn’t mean he was going to marry her. Or had been having visions of her having his children and naming them all different variations of something red.

                Fuck.

                He punched the bag hard enough he felt the skin tear on his knuckles.

                “Everything alright?” Bruce’s mild voice wafted through the gym and Jason’s hackles rose.

                “Fine, old man.”

                “Just checking.”

                “No need.”

                Damian snorted, “I thought you were getting laid now. Shouldn’t that loosen you up?”

                “Damian,” Bruce warned but it didn’t sound very chiding.

                “Fuck off, Demon.”

                “Jason,” Dick growled, shoving the heavy bag so it hit Jason’s head.

                Jason glared, cast a scathing look at the boy who looked unimpressed with his venomous retort, despite the fact that he’d deserved it, then frowned down at his feet.

                “Sorry.”

                “Doesn’t bother me, Todd. Father’s the only one who really has a problem with the language.”

                Bruce sighed, propping both hands on his hips as he levelled a look at Jason. “Do you need to talk about it?”

                “No.”

                “Then let’s suit up. See if you can work out some of that frustration on patrol.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the any formatting errors. Between writing it on one medium then transferring it to here, it gets little muddled and it's a pain to fix. I will go back and hopefully fix everything in time. Thanks for reading and following!

_“So, how are you and Jay?”_

                Lanie smiled into her phone, which was pinched in her neck on the verge of being accidently hung up on and hummed. “Good.”

                _“Do you still feel the same about him?”_

“Yes, mom,” Lanie shook her head, still using both hands to finish unloading her groceries. “I love him. He loves me. We’re working out the rest.”

                There was a pause on the line. Something that Lanie knew meant her mother was worrying, overthinking, and doing her best to keep quiet. But she was a mother after all. And Lanie imagined it was hard to keep those worries in check when your daughter wasn’t dating who you thought they would.

                Her mom and dad had always pictured her finding some guy who’d have a polite smile, maybe told a few corny jokes and shared her slightly nerdy tastes. Lanie supposed it never occurred to them that she’d bring home a man who wore leather jackets like a second skin and oozed broody sex appeal with a broken past.

                Oh, and who only ever drove a motorcycle.

                The look on her father’s face when they’d pulled into the parking lot for supper a couple of months previous had been priceless. She’d laughed, Jay had shrugged, seemingly unfazed by the owlish surprise. It had been one of her favorite moments.

                _“I wish you’d come home for another visit soon. You could bring Jay. We’ve only met him the one time.”_

“Bringing him home with me might be a bit much. I’m not sure how he’d handle it. We’re going slow.”

                _“I know. But you guys have been together for six months now?”_

“Almost five.”

                _“It looks serious. I want to know him better. Especially if he’s going to be a part of the family.”_

Lanie smiled again, closing the kitchen cabinet. “Mom, I’ll ask. But I make no promises. I’ve got Fall break coming up and I’ll be up for a long weekend then.”

                _“Oh, that sounds so nice. Dad is going to be over the moon. And you’re sisters too. They all miss you.”_

“I miss them too. It’s been too long.”

                _“Oh honey, yes it has. I wish I could keep talking but I have to get dinner started. Call you later this week? We can talk about Fall break some more then. Please ask Jay for me. We’d really like him to be there.”_

“I’ll see what I can do. Love you Mom.”

                _“Love you too sweetie.”_

Lanie hung up, pressed both hands to the counter top then sighed. It was always good to talk with her mom but it always made her miss home too. It made her think of Metropolis and everything that made it home. The hot dog stands, the big green parks, the smell of city and the buzz of traffic.

                Not that Gotham didn’t also have its perks, because it did. But it was so different than Metropolis. Gotham was dark and muted, with a hint of danger that had made her parents sweat when she’d said she’d be attending Gotham U for school. Metropolis was a big city, but it was bright and noisy with excitement. It had Superman and football and fireworks.

                Gotham had Batman, Joker, and crime. And a really great law school.

                She shook her head, amused with her own comparisons. Gotham was growing on her, but she was certain it was only because this was where Jay was.

                Lanie spent her evening tidying her mess of an apartment, listening to Star Trek Enterprise reruns in the background. She did dishes, collected piles of laundry that needed washing, and even had the energy to make her bed.

                When she was done, the whole place smelled like lemon multi-purpose spray and she was proud of the fact that she could see the carpet entirely.

                Just when she’d settled into her couch, Lanie heard a knock on her door.

                Pushing to a stand, she ignored the crack in her back and padded over to the peephole.

                There was a carton of Chinese food pressed up to the glass.

                Grinning, she pulled open the door and Jay swooped in with a hard press of lips.

                “Mmmm, you smell delicious. Or is it what you brought me?”

                “Brought you?” he murmured against her neck, making her legs weak, “who said any of this delicious General Tsao chicken is for you?”

                “Cruel man.”

                His laugh was low and rumbled through his chest into hers. “Never claimed to be otherwise.”

                Lanie tugged Jay out of the doorway and pulled him by the hand to the freshly cleaned kitchen. Jay stopped at the threshold and gave a long whistle. “Did you know I was coming?”

                “No.”

                His brows lifted, “Just a wild hair?”

                Lanie shrugged, “I do clean. Sometimes.”

                Jay laughed again, eyes dancing with mirth and he looked so wonderfully good standing in her tiny kitchen that Lanie had to steal just one more kiss. And then another. When he started nibbling at her lips with lazy bites that made her blood boil, Lanie realized she was completely boneless and letting Jay hold all of her weight.

                “Miss me much?” Lanie mused, gasping a little when Jay picked her up without breaking the kiss.

                “Maybe.”

                “It’s been three days.”

                “Centuries,” he growled, and it made goosebumps flush her from head to toe. He was carrying her to her bedroom and Lanie was oh so glad she’d just cleaned it.

               

                 When they were laying sweaty and sated, draped haphazardly over each in a pile of limbs, Jason wondered how he’d ever been living without sex until now. He was getting better at this. Better at being able to lay naked, literally and metaphorically without wanting to immediately get dressed to cover himself again. It felt—oddly safe lying with Lanie like this, tracing the alphabet into her skin with lazy fingertips.

                 He’d not even thought of the Joker for more than a brief flash somewhere between Lanie peppering his chest and them falling ungracefully onto the mattress with a strangled sound of laughter. And then, it had only been the two of them. Only skin on skin and hazel eyes.

       “Dinner will be cold.”

        Jason propped himself onto an elbow to stare down at Lanie, “It was worth it.”

       “This time seemed better. Even better than the last.”

       He ran a finger over her collarbone, over beard-scraped porcelain and freckles. “It’s getting easier.”

       “Do you always think about it? Every time?”

        “No.”

        Lanie shifted, sighing as she pressed her forehead into his shoulder, pressing little kisses down his bared skin. “I like you here.”

       “Me too,” he chuckled, tickling her side as his fingers dipped to one of her hips.

       “No, here, in my bed. In my dinky little apartment. I like you here.”

        Jason pursed his lips, looking at Lanie’s room with his mind still comfortably hazy and lax. He liked her space. He liked that it was lived in and quiet. That wherever he looked, Lanie was in everything from the black and white forestry on her walls to the jewel toned throw pillows in her living room that always ended up on the floor.

       “I like me here too.”

       “Jay,” he blinked down at her, only stiffening for an imperceptible second when her fingers toyed with the hair at his nape. Anything at his back, behind his neck, made him wary. She was too distracted by whatever was making her mouth turn into a frown to notice and he was grateful. He didn’t always want her aware of when things bothered him. He didn’t want to be the broken record. “Would it terrify you if I wanted you here more often?”

       “Terrify me?” It was his turn to frown.

        “I like what we have Jay. I don’t want to rush things or to make you feel pressured. But I find myself picturing you here all the time.”

         “Lanie, what are you asking me?”

         Because he was feeling a bit like the slowest kid in the room. And he knew that wasn’t exactly true. Slow kids didn’t like to read Chaucer or Dante’s Inferno in their free-time like he did.

         “I just—” she pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes, biting her lips, “I’m just saying that if you ever wanted to move in here, you could. That’s all. No pressure, just an open-ended offer.”

          “Oh.”

          Oh. Oh shit. Oh shit, shit, shit. He’d not been expecting that. But—hadn’t a part of him been gearing up for that next step already? Sure, they’d just taken the step to be intimate and although there were a few rocky slopes to navigate where that was concerned, it was obvious they were extremely compatible and willing to make it work. The next logical step would be to move in together. To live side by side, like two normal fucking people who loved each other.

        So, why the fuck did his chest suddenly feel like someone was sitting on it?

        “Lanie, I—”

        “I shouldn’t have said something. Don’t worry Jay. I’m sorry.”

         “Wait,” he snapped, then inhaled softly, “Just give me a minute, OK.”

         “Sorry.”

          “Stop apologizing. You’ve done nothing wrong. In fact, you’ve been pretty fucking saint-like in our relationship thus far, so you need to stop apologizing for when you’re human and have wants and needs like a normal fucking person.”

          “Jay…” she was sitting up now, hugging her knees to her chest, “I know where the lines are with you. I know how to toe and push or when not to. That doesn’t mean I’m saint-like. It just means I’m careful. I’m careful with people that I love.”

          He shook his head, “I know you have to be the one to give more in this relationship than take. Don’t lie to me and say that it’s not true.”

          “I won’t.”

           They sat silent for a moment, both lost in thoughts that maybe shouldn’t be aired or maybe needed the air to breathe so they could figure out what this godawful pressure in his chest was from. After a couple of minutes, Jason reached for Lanie’s hand and squeezed hard. He was becoming increasingly dependent on simply touching her to ground himself. The thought of needing someone like that should have been more debilitating. It was only mildly concerning.

           He didn’t have room past the love that usually swarmed him when she was around to allow anything else in.

           “I’m not against the idea. Just—”

           “Not ready.”

            He nodded, “Yeah. I think so.”

            “I knew that. I should have waited.”

            “Lanie,” Jason shook his head, giving in to the building need to hold her by tugging her hard into his lap. She fit so easily there, cocooned against his chest, ear flat over his heart, arms and legs tucked in like she was no bigger than a child. It made him feel fiercely protective and terribly weak at once. “I want to move in with you. I want to—” God this felt like a knife was slamming down into his chest, “have a future with you. One where we do all the sorts of things that seem normal and corny and domestic. House, picket fence,” he swallowed thickly, feeling her body go tense, “Kids and shit. I’m just—I’m not normal.”

            “I don’t want normal.”

             He kissed the top of her head, clutching her tighter, “You deserve normal. You deserve happy.”

             “I am happy Jay.”

              “I—” Jason inhaled the scent of her shampoo, shea and coconut, “I want to be here Lanie. I like being here, with you, in this dinky little apartment. And when I can, I want to live here with you.”

              She all but melted into him, “I know.”

 

             He couldn’t think about anything else. For days he ruminated and felt foolish for not agreeing on the spot. What could possibly be holding him back? He and Lanie had been dating for six months. God, six months of taking it slow, of being careful of watching himself turn into someone he could hardly recognize. He was a better man because of Lanie and it was incredibly humbling to realize.

              It was good. He deserved good, didn’t he?

_No. You will never deserve that._  

               On his high days, when Jason was forgetful but productive, he would think of Lanie and wonder what the hell he was doing in the Wayne manor when he could be sleeping in a squeaky full-size bed with a freckled woman who loved him. He’d fall asleep with visions of her kissing him. He’d text her until his eyes were blurry and he was probably sending gibberish, but he couldn’t say goodbye without feeling like his chest was going to explode.

                On the bad days, like today, he’d wallow in his own bitter thoughts and worry when the other shoe would drop. When was she going to grow tired of his history and his aloof reclusive behavior? When would she say, enough was enough, and be done with the secrets he was still so obviously keeping? He’d bury himself in work, patrol until he was so exhausted he couldn’t text or call without giving himself away and then he’d punish his body in the gym the first chance he got.

                And it kept Lanie at an arms distance. She took his mercurial moods in stride and was silent when he threw up a wall between them like his life depended upon it.

                But she stayed. Why? He wasn’t worth her staying.

                Jason was nothing if not predictable.

                He was vicious when he wanted to be. Razor-sharp and brittle. Hardened by things he, himself didn’t like to venture too deeply into and on the really bad days, the days where he’d struggled to even get out of bed without having a melt-down he wondered what Lanie would do if she saw him like this. He wondered if she really knew what she was getting into, when he’d never shown this side of himself to her. Then he’d contemplate a thousand ways he could self-sabotage and he’d scarcely stop himself from calling her over, just to watch the house they’d been building together, burn to the ground.

                   Jason had been sitting in the study for well over an hour, reading the same fucking line over and over again in one of his favorite novels, _Count of Monte Cristo_ , with blurry red-rimmed eyes. He was getting a cold. He could feel it climbing up the back of his throat, stuffing up his nose and burning the backs of his eyes.

                He’d have to stay home from patrol, so he’d have enough energy to go to academy in the morning. Lanie had texted him a couple of times and he’d ignored all of them. He wanted to bury himself under books and blankets and hide.

                “What are you doing Todd?”

                Jason didn’t look up at the snippy voice. He didn’t need to. The little Demon had been avoiding him for the last several days after a particularly nasty argument over Grant Theft Auto. 

                “What it looks like.”

                “Alfred called everyone for supper.”

                “I’m not hungry.”

                Damian moved further into the room, the soft snitch of his socks rustling the carpet as he drew nearer. “Haven’t you read that book already?”

                Jason sighed, putting said book down onto his stomach, “Go away Demon. I’m resting.”

                A black brow rose, insolence flickering in those green eyes, “Are you ill?”

                “No.”

                “You sound stuffy and gross. You should speak with Alfred and see if he has something to help you. No one in the house wants to become infected with your filth.”

                “I said I was fine brat. Go away.”

                Damian snorted then took a seat next to him, “Does this have to do with Lanie?”

                Jason blinked at his youngest brother and then laughed dryly, “I’m going to pretend you left already and stop talking. Contrary to all the evidence, I don’t actually want to put a bullet between your eyes.”

                “So, it is.”

                A heavy pause, one scraggly breath, then two.

                “You’re about six inches too short to ride this ride squirt. I don’t want to have this conversation with you. Please.”

                Damian’s hand shot forward and pressed tightly to Jason’s forehead and Jason jerked. “What the hell?”

                “You must be more ill than I thought. You said please to me.”

                Jason rolled his eyes and let his head flop back into the couch, “Why are you so fucking annoying?”

                “It’s a gift. Something is wrong with you. You’ve been moping for days.”

                “I have not been moping. I’ve been introspective and distant. There’s a difference.”

                “I see.”

                Jason ground his teeth, cast a scathing look at the Demon then shrugged both shoulders. “Lanie asked me to move in. I said no.”

                “Why?”

                “Because I’m not ready for that.”

                Damian cocked his head, like he was studying an experiment gone wrong, “You love her.”

                “Yes.”

                “You like her better than any of us. Like being around her more.”

                “Yes.”

                “And yet, you live with us…”

                Jason lifted a brow, “You are family. You have to put up with me when I blow a gasket and fly off the handle.”

                “Ah, you are afraid.”

                “Wouldn’t you be?” Jason quipped, suddenly feeling like he was being suffocated. He needed to get outside but he hadn’t been in the gardens in days. He wanted a smoke too but he knew that would only exacerbate an already miserable cold. “She doesn’t really know who I am.”

                “She knows you.”

                “I died.”

                “And?”

                “And people don’t just die and come back to life, Dami. That’s not something you just drop casually to the woman you’re in love with over coffee. You can’t just let it slide that you happened to be beaten to death by the most notorious criminal in Gotham, because you used to be Robin. Which brings another startlingly ugly truth to the front, she has no fucking clue about Red Hood. About Batman. About any of it. And there’s a part of me that never wants to tell her. But the bigger part, the one that wants to live with her and die with her, that part wants to spill it all. Consequences be damned. But I—” Jason swallowed thickly through a throat that was too dry and kept his gaze on their feet. “I’m in too deep. I can’t live without her. I can’t see living with her either. I feel like—like I’m going to drown once I realize that the edge of the pool is too far away to reach and I’m swimming with leg cramps.”

                “Wow, Todd. You’re more fucked up than I thought.”

                Jason’s phone started ringing, Five Finger Death Punch suddenly blaring loudly through between them. He didn’t need to look to know it would be Lanie. She’d given him longer than he’d expected before calling.

                He was pushing to his feet and answering on the way out of the study before making up his mind. He just couldn’t keep away.

                “Hey.”

                _“Hey there. I’ve got a bag of popcorn and a movie with your name on it, if you want to join me?”_

She didn’t ask why he’d not answered her before. Not a trace of ire of condemnation. She didn’t sound angry either and it made Jason want to curl into himself and savor the softness of her voice.

                “I can’t. I’m staying in tonight.”

                _“Everything OK?”_ He heard, _‘Have I done something wrong?’_

“I’ve got a cold, sweets, nothing big. I’m going to catchup on sleep and cuddle in bed with a stack of books. No need to worry.”

                _“What if I wanted to come over and worry on you? Would you let me?”_

Jason pinched the bridge of his nose, “I’m not usually the type to let others take care of me.”

                _“I can be very persuasive. If needed.”_

He laughed, “I’ll bet you can. But I don’t want to get you sick.”

                _“Well, fine then. Ruin my plans. Destroy my bleeding heart.”_ There was laughter in her voice.

                “Maybe tomorrow?”

                _“No rush Jay. I’m not going anywhere.”_

“OK.”

                _“Get better. Sleep, lots of fluids. I’ll keep my phone nearby in case you need me.”_

He very nearly gave in right then and there. “Goodnight. I love you.”

                _“Love you too.”_

Jason pushed the phone into his pocket and climbed the stairs to his bedroom. He took his time brushing his teeth, rearranging the toothpaste and mouthwash on the counter with the soap and hand sanitizer. He took a long shower, scrubbing till his skin was raw and his fingers pruned. The steam appeared to help a little with the tightness of congestion in his chest.

                When he fell asleep there was a soft tinkling weather watch warning on his phone about a possible snowstorm. He ignored it and drifted into inky darkness.

 

                _“Pretty bird, pretty bird. Wake up darling. Look what I have for you?”_

_Jason twitched, groaned painfully then lurched when he felt the ground move. No, he wasn’t laying down, he was sitting up, sagging like a wet rag in the bindings that cut into his skin. “No.”_

_“Yes, yes, yes. I’ve got you darling. Wake up. It’s a surprise.”_

_“No,” Jason mumbled again, blood dribbling past broken lips to stain his naked chest. Old and new sweat streaked his abused skin amidst dried and flaking blood. He was an open wound, a sore that was weeping pitifully._

_“Pay attention!” the Joker keened, slapping his face hard, drawing his gaze, up, up, up. “There darling. There, there.”_

_Jason’s eyes watered in the bright lighting and he shivered when Joker pressed a hand to his neck and squeezed. Joker was holding something in his other hand. What the hell was it? Everything was so blurry, swinging back and forth like he was in a goddamn pinwheel._

_“She looks so lovely.”_

_“Who does?”_

_“Can’t you see?”_

_“No, I don’t see anything,” Jason shook his head, making the room tilt, making the world begin to crumple in on itself. Blackness was dancing on the edges, like curling little claws and he shivered away from them. Joker sighed, hot thick breath touching Jason’s mouth and tongue. Jason jerked back, but not before he tasted it._

_Lanie._

_Lips took his bruisingly and held him tight._

_He made a whining noise in his throat, tugging hard to get his mouth off of the Joker’s, but the Joker ground their teeth together, tongue thrusting in where it didn’t belong, pushing more of Lanie’s taste into him. He bit down on the tongue and was rewarded with a scream. And then a backhand so hard it made his ears ring._

_“She’s mine,” Joker growled, wiping his mouth, “Just like you are. You belong to me, little bird. Always will. I own you,” he jabbed a finger into the fresh burn mark, “I own you. And now, I own her too.”_

_Jason saw Lanie in the little photograph wobbling in Joker’s hand, and he screamed._

Jason was out of bed and scrambling for his gun before he’d fully woken up. Sweat clung to him, plastering his hair to the sides of his head and his shirt to his chest. His breath sobbed out of his lungs, filling the room with desperate gasps as he swiveled with the firearm clutched deathly tight in his grip, assessing for danger.

                Every corner was darkness, but there was nothing there. No one lurked. No clowns hid under his bed waiting to pounce and devour.

                He was alone. He wasn’t there. Never there again.

                One breath, two breaths. One, two, three heartbeats. The gun slowly lowered, but his pulse throbbed uncomfortably in his temples and his chest.

                He’d had a nightmare. That was all. Lanie was safe. Everything was fine. He was fine.

                He said the words in his head, whispered them out loud into the velvet folds of the stark room around him, where the shadows hid demons and he willed his trembling hands to go still.

                One breath, two breaths. One, two, three heartbeats.

                The hand Jason had used to hold the gun jerked up to his neck and he felt for his pulse. His fingers slipped over his wet skin and it made him think of hot blood, made his knees go weak and he collapsed onto the edge of his bed.

                “Breathe,” he ordered himself, counting his heartbeat, reassuring himself it was strong and steady and _this_ moment, right _now_ , was real. Not the dream. He was alive. He was safe. He was here.

                When the worst passed, and Jason was certain he could keep his legs under him, he was moving. Moving without thought or reason. He just needed to move. He needed out of here.

                Jason walked down the hall and up the stairs to where he knew Bruce’s room was. It wasn’t really a conscious choice to come here, but he knew this is what he needed. There was an unspoken rule that whenever the dreams became too much, any child in Wayne manor could seek the comfort of Bruce’s bed without consequence. Come morning, everything could be forgotten. If that’s what was needed.

                He crept inside the darkened bedroom and he could sense more than see that Bruce was already awake. The figure beneath the silk sheets moved, a rustle of fabric and Jason didn’t speak as he crept to the opposite side of the bed. He said nothing when he climbed under the covers and lie perfectly still on his back, a handspan of distance between his bicep and Bruce’s heat.

                Jason’s right hand snuck back up to his throat to find his pulse and he started counting beats again. Bruce moved, just enough so that Jason could see the glint of his gaze in the scant lighting, then there was a soft sigh and a side being pressed flush to his.

                Heat enveloped him, a heavy arm wrapped around his middle. Strong, safe, warm.

                Jason was grateful for the dark. Grateful that it hid and forgave so much because his eyes welled with tears and he did nothing to stop them from spilling down his temples onto the pillowcase that wasn’t his. He didn’t move away or try to put distance back between them. He just—remained. He let his eyes slipped closed and the sound of soft breathing lull him back towards sleep. The old man’s hand in his hair should have frightened him after the dream he’d had, but it was an anchor. The press of lips to his brow should have been equally unwelcome, but it was a stamp of belonging. Of safety.

                When the snow from that forecasted storm began to pelt the windows, Jason was already asleep.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me too long to update this one and I'm sorry for the wait. Thanks for reading!

               “You sure about this?”

                “Why wouldn’t I be? It’s just your folks and I’ve already met them. They liked me, didn’t they?”

                Lanie looked down at her suitcase, a frown pushing her brows together as she surveyed the mess of clothes she was packing. It was only four days. A long weekend. But she felt uncomfortably worried about how her family would behave spending the entirety of a weekend with her boyfriend. Would the questions come tumbling without reserve? Would her mother give that look which lead to questions about ‘being safe’ and what sort of future plans they might have? Children?

                She massaged a hand down her face then glanced down when Jay blew out a loud breath. He’d been laying on her bed, over the top of several outfit choices she’d pulled and was wrinkling everything. But he looked nice on her bed, ruining her stuff, making her brain all frazzled and gooey. He looked really nice.

                “You didn’t answer me Lanie.”

                “About what?” her nose crinkled as she thought for a moment then she laughed, “Oh, of course they like you. Yes. That’s not what I’m worried about. I’m worried that they like you too much and will scare you away. Mom tends to ask too many impertinent questions and Dad, he gets a little protective and stoic. My sisters—they’ll be something else. You might wish you hadn’t agreed to coming.”

                “Can’t be worse than Damian and Tim,” Jay smirked, a shock of hair falling into his eyes as he propped his chin on his fist, “Besides, we can always disappear into your room if it gets to be too much, right?”

                “About that—” The half-smile disappeared and Lanie rushed to explain, “We can share a room, but my Mom is probably going to give you the stink eye and my Dad, is going to be worse. A lot worse.”

                “OK,” Jay sighed, flattening on the mattress into one of her blouses. His head disappeared in gauzy yellow fabric, “I get it.”

                “They really do like you. They’re just traditional. And I’ll be the first one of their girls to really date someone seriously and that scares them a little. Especially since they didn’t expect me to,” she paused, watching Jay’s body go rigid, “to find someone so attractive and funny and sweet.”

                “You’re a terrible liar.”

                Lanie sat heavily on the bed, beside his head. She’d thought about how this was going to go over and over. Worried incessantly that it was a bad idea. That her family would be too much for Jay. They were just starting to hit their stride by getting comfortable with touching and kissing and making love. She didn’t want him second-guessing everything just because she had overprotective parents and nosey siblings. But she also wanted them to see him—she wanted them to know him, like she did. To see what sort of man she was going to be with.

                What sort of man she loved.

                “You do drive a motorcycle.”

                “And I smoke.”

                Lanie nodded, “And you’ve got a white streak in your hair and you wear leather and you cuss. You are the epitome of any father’s fears. Classically speaking.”

                He snorted, “I’m surprised they even invited me.”

                “They want to get to know you. Like I know you. They can see how happy you make me, and they can see how much I’m in love with you.”

                Jay’s eyes softened, and he stretched on his elbows to kiss her softly, nipping at her mouth a little playfully. She grinned into his lips, pulling back. “Don’t distract me. I’m not finished packing yet.”

                “You’ve got plenty to wear,” Jay mumbled, kissing along her neck, picking at the neckline of her Rolling Stones t-shirt.

                “Jay…”

                “Lanie…” he grinned, all sin and secrets only she knew. It was a heady notion realizing how Jay trusted her and no one else to be with him like this.

                “We—” she kissed him softly, tugging the yellow blouse off his head, “need—” another lingering kiss, “to finish packing.”

                “You teasing wench,” he groaned, then he rolled to a stand, “Fine. But only if I get to pick out something sexy for you to wear at your parents’ house.”

                She laughed hard and did absolutely nothing when he picked out a skimpy black thong and see-through teddy from the very back of her closet.

                They finished packing her bag, rolled it to the door beside Jay’s far smaller Nike duffel, then went about putting together a quick lunch for the car. Jay knew his way around the kitchen well and he easily maneuvered in the fridge for deli meat and cheese, then dug in the bread box for a loaf of sourdough. He looked at ease fixing sandwiches and teasing her about not eating enough. He looked right, standing in her kitchen, eating her food.  

                She hoped he’d say yes to moving in soon.

                They made record time on the drive from Gotham to Metropolis and Jay let her play Johnny Cash loud enough to be mind numbing. They were going into Lanie’s element and she didn’t realize how nervous she was about it all until they pulled to a stop in the drive of her old family home and she made no move to get out. 

                “You ready?” Jay had reached over and taken her hand without her even noticing. She was too busy staring blindly through the windshield at the swaying curtains. They were all standing there watching them. Her sisters and parents like some vultures ready to pick the skin of their bones. 

                “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

                Before they even got to the door, it was opening and Lanie’s mother was rushing out to greet them.

                “You made it!”

                “Mom, it’s only an hour drive,” Lanie smiled into her mother’s perfumed hair and then withdrew to get a good look at her. There were a few more wrinkles and she was wearing a tad bit more makeup than she normally might, but she looked good. She looked like home.

                “We’ve missed you.”

                “Hey, Mrs. Thompkins.”

                “Jay,” her mother shifted, then opened her arms wide towards Jay. He stared at them both for a solid ten awkward seconds before he stumbled forward to accept the hug stiffly. Lanie resisted the urge to laugh. Her mother had no idea that Jay wasn’t particularly fond of hugging. Unless it was Lanie. Then he made an exception to the rule. To every rule. But only for her.

                “I’m so glad the two of you are here. We’ve been looking forward to this for weeks. Come on in.”

                Jay was at Lanie’s side within a couple of steps and they entered the two-story brick home together, prepared to face the fray.

 

                Jason spent the entire supper being watched by Lanie’s three sisters and both Mr. and Mrs. Thompkins. He ate the spaghetti without getting red sauce on the white table cloth. He probably took too many pieces of garlic bread, but it tasted damn good. And when Mrs. Thompkins insisted that he and Lanie were probably tired from their drive, short as it was, he jumped on it. He was only too eager to call it a night.

                “Thank you for the dinner, it was wonderful Mrs. Thompkins.”

                “Oh, it was easy.”

                Jason smiled, hooking his arm in Lanie’s, edging towards the stairs already. Mr. Thompkins had been suspiciously quiet and though he’d not said much, Jason didn’t want to chance him changing his mind. He’d had enough smiling and answering questions from the gaggle of strangely similar looking sisters for one night. He wanted Lanie alone.

                “There are fresh towels in the upstairs bathroom and I changed your sheets.”

                “Thanks Mom,” Lanie murmured and there was a slightly embarrassed waver to her voice that had Jason wanting to wrap himself around her and just soak her in.

                Lanie’s room was done in blues. It didn’t look like her parents had changed much since she’d moved out and there was the faint scent of laundry detergent clinging to the air. It was the sort of smell that made him want to fall into the bedding and sleep hard and long. Preferably with Lanie’s nose pressed into the crook of his neck and her arms and legs draped over him. He was feeling--clingy. And maybe on the edge of needy. 

                “So, you like blue.”

                “Yeah, I was in a blue period for a long time, like Picasso—or something.”

                “I like it,” Jason circled in the center of the room and let his eyes fall closed, “Did I do OK? With your folks?”

                “Of course, Jay. They like you. Really.”

                “Good. I smiled more tonight than I think I have in weeks. My cheeks hurt. ”

                Lanie laughed, hooking her arms around Jason’s back, pressing her cheek to his chest. They hadn’t turned any other lights on except for the bedside lamp and the dusky glow of color made everything feel a little more mystical than it had any right to. If Jason were honest with himself, he’d been stressing like a madman about this weekend. He’d been worrying himself into knots to the point he’d almost cancelled on Lanie out of sheer desperation.

                It had felt like too much too soon. It had felt like getting zipped up into a body bag and then getting dumped into a dirty grave. But then he’d thought of Lanie’s face and the disappointment she’d try to hide, because she was _Lanie_ , and everything she did was careful and kind with him, and he’d not been able to cancel. He’d bucked up, ridden to her apartment and had forced himself not to vomit when they’d spent the morning packing.

                Halfway through the spaghetti he’d stopped sweating and had started to really enjoy himself. He liked Lanie’s sisters, even if they did ask a lot of questions. Marianne, Juliette, and the youngest, Kathryn. He liked all three of them, though they’d been intimidating as hell sitting like a tribunal at the table together. Everything had felt different than their one meeting at the Applebee’s forever ago. When he’d sat through that dinner, his head had been in a different place. He’d admittedly, not taken it as seriously. 

                This time, it had felt like being sized up for entirely different reasons. He wasn’t just the boyfriend they needed to meet. He was the boyfriend with the potential to be far more and that changed things. It made families edgy. And he didn’t blame them. He didn’t exactly mark all the boxes on a new in-law wish-list.

                But he’d survived. He’d even gotten Lanie’s dad to laugh at one of his corny jokes. Which was a big win, as far as Jason was concerned because the man was incredibly serious and far too analytical for his health. His blood pressure was probably through the roof.

                “Jay?”

                “Yeah?” Jason wound a hand through her hair and let the silky strands fall through his slotted fingers.

                “Are you really tired?”

                He hummed, pressing her closer, lining up their bodies so she could feel damn near ever inch of him the way he wanted to feel her. She felt petite and fragile like this, in the half-shadowed dark. She felt so good it made his chest ache and his stomach hollow with need. Lanie’s hands found their way under his shirt and were tracing the column of his spine like it was a necklace of pearls. It made his legs feel weak and rubbery.

                “You angling for something, sweet pea?” he mocked her father’s nickname for her and she laughed into his shirt, “Because if you are, I might be obliged to give it.”

                “Mmm. I’ve always had this fantasy about having sex in my old bed with my parents just down the hall.”

                Jason stiffened, “Now that you say it like that, I might be too tired.”

                “Oh, no, no. I didn’t mean it. Come on, Jay, where’s your sense of adventure?”

                “Wherever your Dad’s shotgun is probably stashed.”

                She was giggling now, and Jason couldn’t help capturing the laugh with his mouth. She tasted a little like dinner still and he liked that. He liked that she was as real as any person he’d ever met. That she didn't use pretenses or facades. She showed you what was inside with just a smile.

                “God, Jay, you make me laugh.”

                “Let’s see if I can do more than that.”

                And he could. He really really could.

 

                When Jason woke before Lanie drenched in sweat and shaking from nightmares, he didn’t wake her. Partly because he wanted to prove to himself that he could do fine without someone holding his fucking hand and partly because she looked too peaceful and serene tucked in all those blue blankets. It would be a shame to ruin sleep for the both of them just because he never slept well.

                So, he’d left her in the bed and tugged on some track pants and a ratty t-shirt then crept down the hall and made his way to the kitchen. He figured he could get some coffee and be back to the room without any even noticing him. It was a quarter to six and a Saturday. No one should be up.

                Apparently, Mr. Thompkins was an early bird.

                Jason got to the kitchen doorway, saw that the light above the stove was on and that someone was standing beside a percolating coffee pot and he about turned and left.

                “Morning,” the gruff voice of someone who’d not been awake long greeted him and stopped him from running. But only just. He wasn’t so stuck on social niceties, even if it was Lanie’s dad, that he wouldn’t cut bait and run if needs be.

                “Good morning, Mr. Thompkins.”

                The man turned, cast a look over his shoulder then sighed long and weary. “Call me Dan. Might as well. Seeing as how you’ll be family soon enough.”

                Jason didn’t have anything to say to that. Not without his voice coming out wrecked, so he said nothing. He nodded, walked over to the bar and plopped his ass down on a bar stool. It seemed like the thing to do, but the longer he sat and stared at his folded hands on the granite counter top the more awkward and stupid he felt. He had no idea what he was doing with this family stuff. He could barely handle his own without screwing up.

                “Didn’t sleep well?”

                Jason blinked up when a mug of steaming coffee got put under his nose and gratefully took it with a smirk. “No. I don’t often.”

                “Me either. Insomniac?”

                Jason took a long sip of the coffee, “Not exactly.”

                Mr. Thompkins, Dan, grunted, then started drinking his own coffee with a dark expression on his face. “So, Lanie tells us, you’re Bruce Wayne’s kid?”

                “One of them.”

                This felt like dangerous territory. Territory which required lying and Jason hated lying. He was hella good at it. But he didn’t care for it.

                “Seems like an interesting man.”

                “He’s a good one,” Jason offered, aware there was a slight edge to his voice that dared someone to argue that. It didn’t matter that Bruce Wayne looked like a flaming retard in the news. Regardless, he wanted to steer clear of family and tried to steer the conversation to somewhere more benign. “I like your kitchen, did you remodel it recently? Granite sure adds a lot.”

                “Look,” Dan, Lanie’s father, Mr. Thompkins, whatever the hell he was supposed to call him was giving him _that_ look. The one that precluded a speech about how he wasn’t good enough for his daughter. Which was true. And Jason was prepared to be dealt the blow. But it didn’t come in quite the package he was expecting. “I can see that you’re a little rough around the edges. You’ve got baggage or what not. And that’s true for all of us. But I can also see that my daughter is in love with you. And that you appear to be in love with her as well.”

                Jason held his breath, waited for the other foot to drop, then found Dan smiling at him. Thin and weary and gristled, but it was a smile.

                “I want the best for her and I trust my daughter’s instincts and judgement. She’s a smart girl. That will never change. If you’re what she’s picked, then you must be the best.”

                Jason stared at Lanie’s father, who stared back, and the kitchen felt stiflingly quiet for several long seconds before he could respond.

                “Wow.”

                Dan laughed, “Not the speech you were prepared for, I take it.”

                “No, not the speech.”

                “Good. I might be old, but I don’t like being predictable. Besides, it’s my job to make you sweat a little.”

                “Mission accomplished, sir.”

                “Now, here’s the part where I tell you that if you hurt her, if you screw this up, I’m going to have to hurt you,” Dan grinned over the coffee, “Or at least try to. Because you’re a big man.”

                Jason nearly choked on his coffee and it ended up coming out as an undignified snort. “I won’t—” he cleared his throat, “I’ll do my best.”

                “Good. Now, how are you at cooking French toast?”

                “I can manage.”

                “Excellent. Mrs. Thompkins wants breakfast made before everyone else is up. I could use an extra pair of hands.”

                Jason downed the remainder of his coffee and felt like a massive weight had been removed from his chest. He could breathe again. Maybe for the first time in a week.

                “Thanks, Dan. Really, thank you.”

                “Anytime, son.”

 

                Eight months. Eight months, two weeks, and three days.

                And Jay was finally moving in.

                Lanie twirled in a circle, balancing a box of Jay’s CDs on top of a box marked _shoes_ , as she angled herself in the propped open door. Jay was down at the garage, still making a little stack of his pitiably little possessions and she’d made it up the stairs first.

                It felt like there should be music or corks popping when she deposited the first box inside the door and grinned. It was official. The first box was in, Jay was here to stay.

                They unloaded ten boxes of mostly clothes, music, and shoes. There were only a couple of framed photos of Jay and his family to put out. A couple knickknacks that made her want to ask questions and get told stories. She was still careful about asking too much or pressing too hard into his background, but he’d been opening up little by little on his own.

                He’d been sharing tidbits with her and Lanie had never been happier. She was—quite literally--floating on cloud nine.

                So maybe she was splurging on herself and eating Fruit loops like a six-year-old in front of her television with the volume turned down low so she wouldn’t wake Jay. He’d had a hard night sleeping again and it was still too early to poke the bear. He’d be up in a couple of hours. Then she’d poke him and see if he wanted to go to the zoo. Or maybe the park. Something outdoors. She was feeling adventurous and wanted Jay's company. 

                Lanie crunched away on the fruity circles for another five minutes before the breath was sucked out of her lungs and she choked on cereal. The strangely familiar face was flashing in bright pixels on the news. She tried to take in a steadying breath, because, it couldn't be what she thought it was. What it looked like it was, then she was frowning, and turning up the volume on the TV, perched on the edge of the couch shaking like a leaf.

                _“Today marks the anniversary of Jason Todd’s mysterious death back in 2002. He would have been 21 if he were still alive. The Wayne family released a statement about it saying, ‘We still miss him every day.’”_

  Everything slowed down to a crawl and Lanie could hear herself breathing. The TV report's droning informative voice faded beneath the strangled sound of it and all she could do was focus on the that face in the picture. All she could do was stare until her eyes watered.

                The boy who looked thirteen or fourteen. He had dark hair, almost black, and green eyes. Sharp cheekbones. A strong budding jawline. The features were younger but so unmistakable. So very familiar, as they should be, because she'd traced them with her fingertips and kissed them with her lips hundreds of times now. She knew that face intimately. 

                Lanie’s heart had stopped beating. It had simply—stopped.

                It was Jay. It was Jay in the photo. A younger Jay. But that was Jay. There was no other way to see it. Jason Todd was Jay Wayne.

                She’d never seen a photograph of Jason Todd before. She’d not actually remembered that there was a son who’d passed away in the Wayne family until this very moment and Lanie felt stupid. She felt so very stupid for not remembering. Or connecting or _asking._ God, she’d missed it all.

                “Oh my God. Oh my—” Lanie tried to swallow down the sudden irrational surge of panic and then anger but couldn’t. She felt too upset. Too blindsided. She moved numbly to the bedroom, stared down at her boyfriend, the man she loved and had just had move in with her and felt sick to her stomach when she realized she didn’t know anything about him. She didn’t even know his real name.

                “Jason Todd,” she whispered, sitting on the edge of the bed, reaching a trembling hand for the shoulder nearest the crooked J scar. It was oddly grounding to look at the scar and the others that laced his chest and neck and back. Because she knew he couldn’t have lied about all of it. He had reasons for keeping things from her—didn’t he? Very good reasons. He had to have had reasons.

                Jay—Jason—had a painful past and there were very good reasons he’d not told her more. She just needed to ask, and everything would get sorted out. It would. She didn’t need to panic.

                “Jay,” she murmured, gripping him hard enough so he’d blink open bleary eyes to stare at her. “Babe, we need to talk. We need to talk right now.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really not positive how many more chapters of this story we'll have. But it feels like we might be coming to an end here in the next couple. Just wanted to give a heads up. Thanks for reading!

                Lanie was trembling. Her hands were tight on his skin, fingers digging into the muscle, the quivering running down her hands into him. The sour taste of hurt was thick in the air and it roused him faster than the look on her face.  

                “What’s wrong? What happened?” he sat up quickly, eyes surveying and gathering information as quickly as he was climbing out of bed to put on clothes. She stepped back and let him, but she folded both arms in on her middle like she was holding herself together and it made Jason’s initial anxious response, stronger. More barbed and frightened.

                “Lanie,” he tried again, now standing dressed in front of her. He reached out to touch her and she startled him into stupefied silence by drawing back before his fingers could make contact. His gut clenched, and he moved away immediately, recoiling like he’d touched a hot poker.

                He never wanted to touch someone when they didn’t want to be touched. He never wanted them to look at him like she just did.  

                “I’m sorry,” she whispered, tipping her chin, “I just—I don’t want to be touched right now.”

                She’d never been so upset with him that she didn’t want to be touched. That was his line. Not hers. Ugly, gnarled, emotions clawed to the surface in his mind and he recognized the first stages of not only panic, but flashbacks lingering at the sudden weak points in his armor. They were always on the fringes, waiting for entrance, waiting for him to fucking slip-up. Waiting for any way to get in and take him over till he was a helpless mess on the floor.

                This felt worse than a slip-up. It felt like something was ending and he was the last to know. Like being caught with your ass hanging out by a crowd of laughing people.

                “What’s going on?”

                “I need you to explain Jay. I need you to tell me what’s going on. Because it doesn’t make sense and if I try to make it make sense, I just feel like crumbling into a thousand pieces,” her eyes had gone shimmery with tears and Jason realized he’d never seen her cry before. Not really. Not because of him. And he was certain that was, what was happening. He’d done something to hurt her. He just didn’t know what.

                He _needed_ to fix it. Whatever it was, whatever she needed. He had to fix it.

                “So, I need you to explain. Please explain it.”

                “Explain what, baby?” Jason asked, voice coming out thin and frightened, “Tell me what I need to explain, and I’ll do it. But I need you to help me out here.”

                “I saw your face on the TV.”

                “On the TV—” Jason frowned, pushing both hands hard through his hair, inadvertently tugging at the roots. The pain was grounding. “My face was on the TV?”

                “It was you, but younger. You as Jason Todd,” her lips trembled, and fat tears spilled over her cheeks, “Jay, Jason Todd is dead. He’s supposed to be dead. Explain it to me. Help me understand what’s going on.”

                “Oh God,” all the blood had drained from his chest and head and was pooling like lead in his legs. He couldn’t keep standing so he let himself sit on the edge of the mattress and worked to keep his breathing calm. Even. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. He was supposed to tell her in another month or two, after everything had smoothed out with him moving in and he’d gotten himself more ready. She wasn’t supposed to have this thrown in her face like this.

                He was supposed to do this right. To do this fair. That obviously wasn’t going to happen.

                “Oh God, Lanie. I never meant for you to find out like this.”

                “Find out?”

                “Yes,” he blinked up at Lanie and wanted to puke. She was so pale he could see the blue of veins beneath her skin. She looked like she felt sick with grief. And he’d done that. He’d never wanted this. Never meant for her to be hurt by the necessary lies he lived by. But what had he expected, when he’d let himself get involved in the first place? This was bound to happen. Good people like Lanie Thompkins, didn’t associate let alone date and fall in love with poison like himself.

                _That’s right little, Robin. You’re poison. My lovely poison. Only for me._

                Jason fought the shiver, the frigid beckoning of fingers on his spine, and willed himself to stay present and in the moment instead of slipping into the depths of memories that would make this so much worse. A breakdown, would merely prove what he’d known from the start.

                He wasn’t good enough for her. She deserved better.

                God, he still wanted her. He didn’t want to lose her. Not like this. Not when he’d felt so close to finally digging out of the grave life had been trying to bury him in.

                “I’m Jason Todd. And I did die,” the words came out like broken glass from his vocal chords and he flinched past the pain of saying it. He didn’t like to say it out. Like doing so, made it more real. Even though it was as real as anything.

                Lanie shook her head, “Jay, you’re not making any sense.”           

                “I know, but I’m telling you the God’s honest truth now. I was and am Jason Todd and I died in 2002 when it said I did. But I also came back.”

                “Jay, please,” Lanie swallowed convulsively, “Tell me something I can believe. Tell me something that makes sense.”

                “I’m—” this was so much harder than he’d expected it would be, so much more difficult to squeeze past the vicious fist on his throat, “I want to backtrack. Sit down, please.”

                She shook her head and remained standing, eyes so very amber they’d lost any traces of green they’d normally have. Her hair was loose and slightly tangled from sleep and in coppery brown waves on her shoulders. She looked beautiful. And broken.

                He’d done that.

                “I’m going to tell you some things, some very difficult to believe things and if you let me get it all out, I promise it will make sense. If you take my word for it all, I can bring you to Wayne manor and show you that I’m telling you the truth and then we can work this out. We can fix this.”

                He sounded desperate and maybe he was. No, he was desperate. Absolutely desperate and he’d never felt it so heavy and manacled around his ankles and wrists and throat, like he couldn’t breathe. He’d never meant to care so damn much about her. He’d never meant to fall in love so deeply and so irrevocably that the very notion of possibly losing her was making him tailspin and flail into a terror. But he had and it was, what it was. He had to deal with this. He had stay focused and not slip out of the present, even those his fingers itched to reach for his pulse and simply breathe and his mind was cringing away from saying even a fraction of what he needed to. He could do this. Jason could do this for Lanie. He had to.

                She nodded once, slowly.

                So, he told her. He told her everything.

                When he said that he’d been the second Robin to Batman, she’d opened her mouth as if to argue then fallen silent. Disbelief morphed into stunned then became apathetic acceptance. By the time he’d gotten to the part about being kidnapped by Joker, being beaten and tortured, she’d moved to sit on the floor and had her eyes closed. She’d known there had been a man who’d hurt him, but he doubted she’d ever even in her wildest dreams imaged it was the Clown Prince of Gotham.

                He struggled through vague details and had to breathe past the fraying panic when he mentioned the Lazarus pit. His memories about the pit and his revival were blurred but straight up toxic. They always brought about a panic attack. This time, he managed to glide over it, because he just kept talking. He couldn’t stop. It was like diarrhea of the mouth of crack.

                Jason kept speaking, because he didn’t know what else to do. He kept talking and talking and talking because his mind was in a snarl of panicked thoughts and his chest was hurting and he felt sick to his stomach.

                He was very, very close to breaking down and not the sort of breakdown Lanie had been privy to, but the kind that lead to snot, tears, and violence. The kind that left everything shredded including himself and made him feel so fucking crazy, he’d be considered for inpatient care at Arkham.  

                He didn’t want to lose Lanie. Not when they’d come this far. Not when she’d stayed with him for everything else. He couldn’t lose her.

                When Jason stopped talking and he finished with explaining that he was still Red Hood but with the moral code Batman lived by and that he went out on patrol twice a week, Lanie had all but slumped into a pile on the floor. His throat felt raw, because he’d been talking and talking and talking. And he wanted her to say something, but he was so _scared_ it would mean the end when she did.

                “Lanie,” Jason said her name like a prayer and risked moving closer, risked her rejecting him again because he ached to be nearer and see her eyes. When they fluttered open and she was staring at him vacantly, it felt like a punch to the gut. “I’m sorry Lanie. I’m so goddamn sorry I didn’t tell you till now.”

                “I understand Jay.”

                But she didn’t sound like Lanie. She sounded hollowed out and weary. It sounded like he’d broken something in her and that was worse.

                “You—” he swallowed thickly, reaching for her hand nearest him on the carpet. It felt ice cold and brittle. Too small. “You understand?”

                “Yes,” she blinked glossily up at him then frowned, “And I still love you.”

                He didn’t feel as relieved as he wanted to. Because he could hear the steady current of the word ‘but’ beneath her words. She looked worn to the bone, fatigued from all the things he’d managed to spew out, and he could see in her gaze what her next words were going to be. He knew what they meant, because he too, understood. And because he knew her.

                This had been too much. This time, he’d been too much. And he understood. It made sense really. It did.

                “I need time Jay.”

                He grasped her fingers weakly, grinding his teeth to keep himself steady. The tears were pressing hard the backs of his eyes, threatening to make him lose his composure completely. He didn’t want to add insult to injury here. But there were so many feelings going on inside of his chest and they felt like he was going to explode. Like he was going to hyperventilate if he didn’t let them out. Even if she wasn’t going to do this, he’d need to leave. Or risk hurting her worse.  

                “I believe you.”

                He nodded.

                “I don’t know how I do, because it’s all so—fantastical and dark and twisted—it’s just so—” she laughed but it wasn’t with humor. It was sad. “It’s so big Jay. It’s all so fucking big. And I need a minute to process. Do you understand?”

                “Yes.”

                “I’m—” she swallowed, tears gathering once again in her eyes, “I’m still not running Jay. God help me, I’m not. But I need a minute to process everything you’ve told me. I need to be alone.”

                The request felt like a blade beneath his rib cage and Jason sucked in a breath, looking away quickly to prevent Lanie from seeing the hurt in his eyes. God, it hurt more than expected, even knowing it was coming and that he deserved it. He really did. But it still cut him. It cut him deeply.

                “OK,” he cleared his throat, “OK, I’ll go. Just give me a minute to pack a bag.”

                “Jay,” she grabbed his shirt, a desperate fistful that lurched his heart up into his throat, “I still love you.”

                “And I still love you,” he whispered back, but he knew that it felt different now. Because he’d lied. Because he’d broken something between the two of them and he wasn’t certain that this time, there would be a way back home.

 

                “What are you doing here?”

                Jason was lying on the floor in the middle of his bedroom, staring up at the ceiling with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. The thin trail of smoke littering the air was lazy and the exact opposite of everything going on inside his head.

                His room was destroyed.

                Everything in it was shredded as if the fucking Tasmanian devil had come in and torn it to pieces. To some degree, that's exactly what happened. Jason had come back to the manor, stared vacantly at his walls, at the goddamn walls that had belonged to Jason Todd, the boy, the teenager, and he’d fucking lost his shit. Nothing had been sacred.

                He’d torn the posters down, ripping them into pieces. Then the action figures and the baseball cards and the model cars. Lamps had been tossed, light bulbs shattered and bedding stripped. He’d crushed and destroyed and _screamed_ his rage at the things that shouldn’t still be there in a room that should have been buried like him. He wasn’t that person anymore and he never would be.

                But he also wasn’t really Jay Wayne, was he? The person he’d tried to create to escape who he really was, was just a mask. He wasn’t anyone. He wasn’t anything. He was probably still dead, lying in some limbo being tortured for his crimes. He was losing his mind.

                He didn’t even bother responding to the voice. No, he stayed put, silent and smoking in the middle of the chaos amidst a bed of shredded posters and toys.

                “Why the hell are you smoking? And _inside_ the house?” a pause, something like anger floating across the space between Jason and the voice, then, “What did you do to this room?”

                Jason put the filter back between his lips and took a deep drag, letting the menthol and nicotine burn deep. The deeper the better. He’d already been dead once. It hardly mattered what sort of damage he could be doing a second time around.

                It was his third. He was feeling reckless and would probably smoke a whole fucking pack. Because he didn’t care. Why should he?

                “Jason, what the hell are you doing?” the voice had moved and was now standing over him, a lethal glare pinned on his face and he squinted through the smoke to see Bruce’s ice-cold eyes narrowed on him. So, the old man had come to pick at him too. He’d come to see what sort of a failing sack of shit he was.

                “I don’t wanna talk.”

                “Tough,” Bruce growled, reaching for the cigarette before rudely snapping it out of Jason’s fingers. He snubbed it out on the sole of his dress shoe then squatted down to give him a hard shake. “What’s going on? What happened?”

                Jason hissed, tempted to slap at Bruce just to pick a fight. It sounded nice actually. Hitting someone. Being hit back. Pain was something he understood intimately.

                Yeah, it was something he wanted.

                “Nothing. Yet, anyways.”

                “What’s that supposed to mean?”

                “Exactly what it sounds like old man. Fuck off.”

                “Jason,” Bruce snapped, clearly already losing his patience, “Don’t make me hurt you. I don’t want to end a perfectly shitty day like that. Talk. Now.”

                Good. He wanted it. And he knew exactly how to get it.

                “And I said, fuck you.”

                Bruce was as lethal as ever and before Jason could even try to sit up, he’d bitch slapped him. The sting was enough to rile his thinly veiled temper, Bruce’s answering crouch was the trigger, and the invitation in his eyes was the pull.

                _Bang._

                Jason launched himself into Bruce and the old man took the hit like a champ. He didn’t even get knocked over. The grapple for ground control went on only a handful of seconds before Jason grew impatient and went for a take-down. It failed, but Bruce had only just managed to get out of the hold. So, Jason took bottom and wrapped both legs up like vines and went for a triangle choke.

                It was fast. Fast enough that Bruce hadn’t seen it coming. Even better, he was in deep enough that his face went purple in his efforts to escape and Jason was certain the old man would be forced to tap out or pass out.

                But Bruce almost never gave up. Not as far as Jason had seen. No one could stay in a fight as long or with as much lethality as the Bat and Jason knew the Bat would take over any second. He was counting on it.

                Bruce got just the right amount of leverage and broke the grip. Gasping, Bruce wasted absolutely no time in his assault. He apparently didn’t need a minute to recover because he was on top of Jason so quickly, there wasn’t even a millisecond of hesitation. There were quick neat jabs to his stomach, little blows meant to incapacitate and not hurt. And it just made Jason more angry. He _wanted_ to hurt. Anything was better than the pain going on inside his goddamn chest. But Bruce’s refusal was as obvious as if he’d verbally said no.

                He kept the fight neat. Clean. Enough force to do what he wanted and nothing more.

                And just like that, Jason lost. He was rolled, cut, and tied and in a bow with a pretty fucking rear naked choke. Bruce’s favorite. And he was damn good at it. If he got your side, he’d work his way to your back and he’d have you. Hook, line, and sinker.

                There wasn’t going to be a bloody, sweaty battle tonight. It was over as quickly as it had begun. And it left Jason shaking and empty. So empty.

                Jason gulped down a gallon of air before he managed to slow his breathing and when he did manage, he realized with a slight bit of horror, that he was also crying. Like a lot.

                “Jason,” Bruce frowned down at him, looking absurdly like a parent again now that their impromptu fight was over, and the Batman was put back away, “Talk to me. What’s going on? Is it Lanie?”

                “That obvious?” Jason snorted, swiping angrily at his cheeks.

                “Well—”

                “Yeah, I know.”

                “So, you guys had a fight.”

                “Not exactly,” Jason sighed, clearing the last bit of the tears with just a touch of shame. He didn’t have the emotional reserves to handle that particular landmine, at present. “Today is the anniversary of Jason Todd’s death, according to the local news.”

                It didn’t take any more explanation than that. Because, well, Bruce was Bruce. He deduced the predicament just fine.

                Bruce’s eyes widened, “Oh Jay.” The nickname made him want to snarl. But only because it was soft and compassionate. He didn't want that either.

                “Yeah, she found out. I explained everything. But this would have gone over better had I worked up the guts to say something sooner in my own time without having it all blow up in my face.”

                “Is she—does she believe you? Do you need me to talk to her?”

                “You? Or the Batman?” Jason laughed bitterly, “I don’t think that’s a good idea. I have a feeling she might not take too kindly to any of the batfamily at the moment.”

                “She’s that mad at you?”

                “No,” he covered his face, “It’s worse. She’s not mad at me at all. Said she still loves me. But she needs time to process everything.”

                “That’s a good—”

                “Don’t. I don’t want to hear it right now. I just can’t. I’ve been slowly spiraling into a meltdown since ten o’clock this morning and I’m not ready to get out of it yet. I just—I need to let myself panic.”

                “OK. How can I help?”

                For a brief moment, Jason almost said, ‘hug me,’ then thought better of it and decided that he’d had enough physical contact for one day. He needed space too. Maybe to freak out. Maybe to tear apart his shit again and do a little more self-hatred and loathing. He didn’t know.

                “I don’t know.”

                Bruce blew out a breath, still on the floor amidst the shredded posters in his Armani dress slacks with an air of regal calm. It was always strange to Jason how even when Bruce looked disheveled, he still looked expensive and upper-class. He could wear a hoody and jeans and still manage to look like he was a pure blood royal. Whilst Jason managed to look like a ruffian in even the nicest of suits. The absurdity of that sometimes made him pause.

                “Do you want work? I could use back-up on a bust tonight.”

                “Which case?”

                “White Eyes. He’s been flooding the Bay’s low-income housing district with psychotropics. It’s been drawing in the young kids because he’s marketing it like ecstasy in candy packs. There’s already been twenty deaths, all under the age of eighteen. It’s not a stable formula and it makes the heart go at stroke volume.”

                “Hence the deaths.”      

                “Yes,” Bruce sighed, “You in? I actually could use the help. It’s been a long day.”

                Jason frowned at him, “You said shit day. What happened on your end?”

                Bruce shrugged both shoulders, “Something JLA related. It’s not a big deal.”

                Jason snorted now, because he’d seen the look before and understood what it meant. If he was crappy at interpersonal relationships with the opposite sex, one only needed to look to his father to see who his shining example was.

                “Lady trouble of your own?” it didn’t come out as snotty as he wanted it too. His throat felt tight and those tears felt too close for comfort.

                Bruce’s expression darkened, “Yes and no. She’s leaving for an off-world mission in a few days. It’ll be for a couple of months.”        

                “Ouch.”

                He looked down, “Not a big deal. But I was surprised she didn’t bring it up sooner. It—took me off guard when Clark mentioned it today on the phone.”

                Meaning, Bruce had been hurt. Jason frowned, “Sounds like you could use a distraction of your own, Batman.”

                Bruce chuckled, “Yeah, and maybe a drink after we come home. You game, Red Hood?”

                “Yes.”

                Jason didn’t need to think about his answer. He already knew it would be better than anything he’d be doing at home. Taking down White Eyes would be a pleasure.

               

                Lanie felt selfish.

                She felt selfish for needing time and space away from Jay, so she could think about everything he’d told her. But she also understood herself. She knew who she was, and what she needed. It was something her parents had always been impressed with. Lanie was good at understanding herself better than anyone. And she’d thought she understood Jay on almost the same level.

                Until their relationship had hit the ground and burst open, like a bag of sand on concrete. She hadn’t realized there had been so _much_ to tell. She’d known Jay had kept much of the details about his abuse to himself. But she’d mistakenly assumed the abuse was from his biological family. He was adopted by Bruce Wayne for reason, yes? That made logical sense in her mind.

                But she’d not even been on the same planet in-regards to what had happened. Jay hadn’t been abused by a family member. He’d been abused by the Joker. _The Joker._

                Because he used to be _Robin._ And his adoptive dad, who was also, _the fucking Batman_ , had been too late to save him. He’d literally died.

                She’d thought she had understood the depth of his torture and pain. She’d had no inkling how little she’d scratched the surface.

                Jay didn’t sleep well at night because he was plagued with nightmares. But not just because he’d been sexually violated by a terrible person but because that person was the Joker. A man who was frightening to anyone he came in contact with. He was murdered by that man. Then brought back to life in some space-age voodoo pit and then had gone on a rage filled revenge fest as the Red Hood.

                The Red Hood they’d all read about in the papers who killed drug lords and pimps. The one who’d been finally properly leashed by the Batman, according to the GCPD, who still didn’t officially condone the acts of the vigilante known as Batman.

                It was—too much.

                It was so much to swallow and understand. Of course, she needed time to do that. To wrap her head around it all. She was sleeping with the Red Hood. She’d kissed the scars of Robin, traced the barely-there crinkles at the eyes of Jason Todd. And she’d give her heart to all of them. All the versions, dead or alive, or tortured or angry. She’d given her heart to Jay Wayne, not realizing that by doing so there was so much more beneath the surface. More than even she had been prepared for. And she’d spent countless hours imagining everything she might have to prepare in relation to Jay. It hadn’t been enough.

                But could it have ever? Who could prepare emotionally for the things Jay had told her? Who could have survived them, as Jay had?

                Her heart ached. It throbbed beneath her breastbone as a wound that just needed time. She was sure of it. But still, she needed it.

                Lanie stayed in bed all day. She rose to pee and to snarf a piece of toast. It felt like she’d come down with a bad cold, but it was just her heart. She was heartsick. Jay didn’t text her and she didn’t expect him to, but still, she checked her phone often. Just in case.

                By the end of the weekend, Lanie knew she needed to do something. She needed to see him again and try to work through the strangely conflicting feelings of betrayal and hurt. It was odd that she could feel so badly for the man she loved at the same time as feel hurt by him. She wanted him near her as equally as she wanted space. It was confusing. Agitating. And quietly driving her mad in the confines of her lonely apartment that was supposed to be both of theirs now.

                Sunday, mid-afternoon, Lanie put down her book, stuffed her feet in a pair of hideous clogs she left at the door for quick errands and left the house. She didn’t know where she was going until she was already taking the exit to Wayne Manor.

                She didn’t know what she’d do when she got there or what she’d say. But it was like being called home by a beacon and she had to answer. Lanie needed to see him. She needed to see those green eyes that haunted her night and day and know that Jay was still _her_ Jay. Even though he was Jason Todd and Robin and Red Hood. Even though he’d killed people and been killed and had terrible things done to him. Even though she knew all this new information that felt too big and ugly to process.

                She needed to see _her_ Jay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do my best to edit every chapter that I post, but I still miss things. Please forgive any mistakes you might find.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter of this series guys. I will post an epilogue as a chapter 11 but then that should conclude Let's Start Over. I'm actually really sad it's over! 
> 
> However, I'm not giving up Lanie and Jason so easily. I have fallen deeply in love with their story and the way they are around each other. It's been such a pleasure writing them that I have added Let's Start Over to a series called, Evolution of a Jaybird, where I will put any future sequels or one-shots involving this Jay and his Lanie. Thanks for reading folks!

                Lanie was admitted into Wayne manor as a guest and even though she’d been within the walls of the late Victorian home countless times, this time, felt different.

                It was quiet and filmy. Warm winter light spilled in through the windows, though it was late afternoon and the light was faster disappearing in favor of a sunset. She had no doubt it would be stunning over the Gotham forest trees and the shimmering waters of the nearby Bay. If she and Jay were feeling up to it, they would have wrapped themselves in blankets and hats and scarves, then taken hot cocoa out to the edge of the property to watch the sun disappear. Then they probably would have walked around the barren gardens and he would have smoked a cigarette and they would have talked about how they were going to move somewhere warmer when they got old and crinkly.

                The pretty picture of it all, made her smile. Until she thought of why she was here and why her body ached from crown to heel. She wasn’t here for sunsets or romantic evenings out in gardens. She was here to set things right after their little world had imploded. She was here to make order out of chaos and to see with her own eyes, that the man she’d fallen in love with, was still just a man.

                Because she was certainly just a woman. A woman whose heart felt sore and weary.  

                Lanie had come to the manor in sweats, no makeup, and a messy attempt at a bun. She’d come with dark circles under her eyes and skin drained of all its color. She came like a weary vagabond ready to seek shelter. And Wayne manor welcomed her with open arms.

                Alfred must have recently cleaned by the servant’s entrance off the kitchen, because it smelled like lemon oil and mint. The floors were glossy under the sheen of dim lighting. Frames and windows glowed and lacked even a spec of dust. She found herself briefly wondering if Alfred ever took a day off, or if he ever let even a smudge remain within the hallowed walls of the manor. She doubted it.  

                “Where is everyone?” Lanie asked softly, following Alfred as he wordlessly brought them deeper into the home. It felt like she should whisper as though she were inside a church. Though that made her feel silly.

                “Downstairs, Miss Lanie. I’ll take you to them.”

                “Oh.”

                She’d not been aware of a downstairs in the Wayne manor. Given the size of it, this didn’t come as much of a surprise. Still, there was a thread of something tenuous in Alfred’s voice that suggested the downstairs was generally off-limits. And it made her keep close to his heels as they paced down the long hall that bisected the manor then took a sharp right past the formal dining room, before stopping at an ornate grandfather clock that looked spectacularly old.

                Pausing, Alfred lifted a weathered hand to the face of it, opened the glass lid then spun one of the long black hands with his index finger. Lanie watched the process with a frown, unsure what the hell the old butler was doing, but then stared dumbstruck when the clock broke from the wall with a sigh and hiss. The seal around the clock popped open like a can of soda and a small gush of alien air attempted to equalize the change in pressure. Gooseflesh spilled over her arms and legs.

                “Right this way, madam,” Alfred hummed, completely disregarding her expression as he pulled the clock back on a set of shiny brass hinges and then disappeared into the yawning black entrance he’d just exposed.

                Lanie followed silently. She could hardly do anything else.

                Jay had told her that Bruce Wayne was the Batman. And logically, over the weekend, she’d let herself consider the information and tried to digest it in pieces, so it could be understood. She’d thought herself fairly accustomed to the information. But sinking deeper and deeper into what was obviously a cave, and a tightly held secret, she felt a little shaky and a whole lot unsure of herself.

                If she’d been alone, Lanie likely would have dissolved into awkward inappropriate giggles.

                The air was slightly chilly and damp on her skin and she shivered, when she could hear the tell-tale sounds of bats roosting overhead. If she looked, all that could be seen was sooty black. But she could hear their paper-thin wings beating the air.

                This place belonged to the Batman.

                The abrupt change from gloss and polish, to gritty cool sharpness, made the reality of what she was walking into, that much stronger. If Lanie closed her eyes, it would be easy to believe this was all a dream.

                When Alfred stopped at the base of the stairs and Lanie came to stand at his side, she was greeted with something much more technically advanced than her first imaginings with the wet and bats. In the bottom of the cave, it appeared that no expense had been spared in making a top of the line workspace. Grated walkways crisscrossed the massive rocky outcroppings, leading up to a higher deck where a bank of computers glowed dimly blue, or to other carved out platforms housing gear and weapons. Over her head, by a set of stairs, there was the Batmobile, in all its glory shining dewy and black beside a pair of equally jet-black motorcycles. Lanie immediately thought of Jay’s own bike and then felt her stomach cramp imagining him fighting alongside the Bat. As a lethal weapon of muscle and mind.

                It was something absolutely thrilling and then terrifying to imagine. It was one thing to be told, an entirely different thing to see the evidence.

                A waterfall at the far reaches of the cave where the floodlights didn’t reach was a dull roar over her ears and she was glad she couldn’t hear how loud and fast she was breathing.

                “Where—” Lanie’s voice came out too thin to be heard and she had to try again, “Where is Jay?”

                “Right this way,” Alfred mused, his brows lifted as he watched Lanie take in the cave for the first time. He’d had to have known that it was now safe to bring her here. Else he never would have done this.

                Still, there was a little part of her brain that screamed at her to _leave._ At any moment, the Bat could come and see she’d invaded his space. And that was a frightening thought. Even if she knew the man beneath the mask.

                Alfred led her over one of the walkways, down a ramp and through a set of doors that were to the right of the main computer deck she’d seen. When they strode into a room of white walls and shining stainless steel cabinets, Lanie was stopped in her tracks by the grouping of men.

                It wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen them all before. Because she had.

               But she’d seen them as men. Not like this. Never, would she have pictured Jay’s family like this. Bruce, wearing black thermals with the Bat insignia unmistakably marking his chest. Dick, fully out-fitted, sans the domino of Nightwing, leaning over what looked like a cot, his back to her. Timothy, Red Robin, looking at her with the cowl missing but with smears of black grease paint around his eyes still. Damian glaring and feral, wearing sweats and looking as vicious as ever. He too, wore the Bat insignia on the thermals she could see sticking out from beneath his halfway zipped hoody.

                Bruce stepped forward, eyes dark and strained, face carefully blank. “Lanie.”

                “Bruce,” she swallowed, trying not to stare, trying not to feel the scarlet heat that was swamping her face and neck. She felt so out of place and absolutely forbidden here. And just a touch of afraid. Because she didn’t feel welcome here. This place felt just a bit frightening and off-limits. And this room smelled like antiseptic and faintly of blood. Another reminder of what she’d stepped into and who Jay really was.

                She’d come here to see Jay. Not to stare and gape. Not yet. She imagined, ten years from now, they’d all laugh about how long she went without knowing any of it and how shocked she’d been. But that time wasn’t now. Now, she just felt awkward and foolish and anxious.

                She’d come here to see _her_ Jay.

                “Where’s Jay?”

                Bruce’s expression crumpled a little and something like fear rushed up Lanie’s throat when the sea of semi-uniformed men parted to reveal that little cot, Dick had been leaning over, in this clean antiseptic smelling place. A bed with Jay in it.

                Suddenly, the blood smell made sense. And so did the grouping of men around the bed and their oddly tight expressions.

                Lanie felt abruptly sick. And scared.

                For the second time in two days, her heart stopped completely. She didn’t breathe as her eyes flickered over his frame, hungry to see him and desperate, beyond desperate, to see the rise and fall of his chest. When she confirmed it, when she could see the flutter of a pulse in the hollow of his throat, Lanie surged forward and ignored everyone else.

                She could hear Bruce trying to explain, but it sounded like hazy buzzing in her ears. She caught words like, ‘he’ll be OK’ and ‘some blood loss’, but there seemed to be a disconnect between her brain and her ears. Lanie couldn’t see or think or hardly breathe past simply getting to Jay’s side and feeling that he was alive and well.  

                She was on her knees by the cot, grabbing onto one of Jay’s hands, pressing her mouth to chapped knuckles as the tears sprang up. The curses came shortly after and she didn’t notice when everyone left. She was too busy cussing Jay out, gripping his hand so hard it was bruising her own knuckles with the pressure.  

                “What did you do to yourself Jay?” she snapped, angry tears pearling down her cheeks, “How could you go off and get hurt like this and not call me?”

                “I’m sorry.”

                Lanie jerked at the rumbling voice and looked down into red-rimmed green eyes that were clear and smooth and familiar. A hiccupping sob rose up her throat and stole her breath and then her voice and she bent over Jay and let the tears come.

                She only cried harder when Jay’s hands gripped hers weakly and didn’t push her way. When he pressed her fingers to the pulse in his neck, like he’d done so many, many months ago in the manor to show he was alive, she counted the heartbeats with the strain of her own. She counted them till she could believe them.    

 

                Jason drifted off to the soft sounds of Lanie sobbing and if he’d been able to get up without screaming in pain, he might have tried to comfort her better. Unfortunately, that was an impossibility.

                When he roused again, he figured it must be sometime in the middle of the night because the cave lights were dimmed, and the med-bay was empty. Lanie was still with him, tucked into his side, softly snoring but stiff as a board with both hands clenched into her chest in tight fists. A little hazy from the drugs, and a lot soothed to see her here, he smoothed a thumb between her brows where they wanted to crinkle in worry and she sighed into him. Warm and soft and Lanie.

                She smelled good in the dark like this. Her breath felt cool and gentle on his neck and even though he could imagine better circumstances for getting her down in the cave, he couldn’t be upset about it. Lanie was here. And she’d come on her own. No one had called her. Because he’d told them not to.

                But she’d still come.

                It had to mean that they would be alright. It had to mean she’d come because she’d accepted the things he’d told her and still wanted him. He couldn’t believe different.

                Lanie shifted a little on the cot, making the metal squeak, then blinked open slightly swollen red eyes at him. She’d never looked more lovely.

                “Hey,” he whispered, smoothing his thumb over her bottom lip now, silently asking permission to touch her more.

                She sighed, squeezing a millimeter closer, easily giving that permission, then gently hooked an arm over his chest. “Hey.”

                Knots loosened in his stomach, aches smoothed, and he let himself hope.

                “You’re here.”

                “Yes.”

                They sat silent for long minutes. He traced her face, ran his fingers through her hair. Lanie sat perfectly still, letting him explore as she hummed in agreement with the touches. It was almost better than the words. Almost better than saying everything between them was really going to be alright. But he needed to hear those too.

                “What happened?”

                “Didn’t Bruce tell you?” Jason questioned, brow wrinkling as he stared into the hazy dark to try and make out her face better.

                “He tried. I was a little—distraught when I saw you. I didn’t listen well.”

                Jason toyed with an earlobe, then started wrapping her silken hair around a finger. “I got stabbed a couple of times, during a bust with a local crime boss. Lost a lot a of blood.”

                “Jay, my God.”

                “I’m alright. It wasn’t a big deal. Alfred stitched me up. We’ve got blood on hand, so I had a transfusion too. But I’m OK.”

                “You could have died.”

                He opened his mouth to say he’d already been dead before, because that would be a natural response for him, but the words died in his throat when Lanie tensed.

                “I’m sorry. That was insensitive.”             

                “Lanie—you don’t need to apologize.”

                Her eyes glowed like moonstone under the security lighting outside the med-bay and Jason wanted to bottle the feeling in his chest for a bad day. For the days when he didn’t believe anyone or anything. He wanted to keep this moment for later. Because he could see in her gaze how much she loved him and how much she cared. The fact that she was lying on this fucking uncomfortable cot still, was proof enough of her staying power. Of what she was willing to offer.

                Lanie was the rock in the storm. Even when the storm was him.

                “Why did you come?”

                He knew no one had called her. No one would break the sanctity of that particular rule, unless death was on the table. Thankfully, his wounds had been moderate, but not severe enough to override his requests. Though he did feel like shit.

                One lucky fucker with a switchblade and he was sporting thirty-two stitches and would have a couple new scars to add to the patchwork job he had going. It was part of the job. Sometimes, someone got lucky and got through the armor. Sometimes, things happened.

                “I needed to see you.”

                “See me?” he whispered, letting the fresh stitches in his side sting so he could lean closer to press a kiss to her forehead.

                “I needed to see _my_ Jay. The man I fell in love with,” he froze, and she blew out a tired breath, “I know your real name is Jason. At least your legal name. But I knew you and still think of you as Jay. And even though you’ve got all these other parts to you, that I didn’t know about till a couple days ago, in my head and in my heart—you still feel like just Jay. The Jay I love.”

                Jason’s heart was slamming into his ribs, a hefty reminder of him being alive. Of this moment being real, and he swallowed thickly as all the fear and the pain and the noise in his head from the last few days went quiet. It all went softly and abruptly, silent.

                He suddenly felt like he could sleep for days. Like he could relax after having had every muscle in his body tense for years.

                “Is that OK, Jay? That I still see you like that?”

                Jason nodded, feeling so damn thankful and relieved and exhausted, he couldn’t express it without breaking down, “Yeah. It’s OK. I—I like it. I’m still just me. I’m still just Jay.”

                “Yes,” Lanie whispered, “I might need you to remind me of that in the future—in case you’re stupid again and get yourself hurt like this.”

                He choked on a surprised laugh, then shook his head, “I’ll do my best.”

                She inhaled delicately, a pleased sound breaking the seam of her mouth, “I’m counting on it.”

 

                Lanie and Jason stayed at the manor for a week until Jason was fully back on his feet. Dick helped placate his academy instructors and Lanie kept him company in bed. They read Chaucer and laughed over some Shakespearean comedies he hadn’t dusted off in centuries. She fed him toast and made him stay in bed too much, but Jason let her because he felt too damn spoiled not to.

                He let her baby him and boss him. And she didn’t bring up the new tiny strains between them. The little things that made their dynamic just that much different. She’d forgiven him, and they were moving forward, but things were—different.

                At the end of a week, Alfred informed him he didn’t need to return to the manor for the removal of the stitches because they were dissolvable. They packed up, said a few goodbyes and went back to the original scene of the crime where it all went bang. _Their_ apartment.

                It felt a little strange now, walking in the door and seeing that nothing had changed. It felt like everything had. Most of it for the better, but still. More should look different on the outside, when there’d been such a vital shift on the inside. At least, that’s what it felt like.

                Jason unpacked his duffel, watched TV quietly with Lanie perched on the opposite end of the couch with her feet in his lap. He did his best to act like nothing was wrong or different or strange, but by the time he’d cycled through three reruns of Law and Order, he was feeling antsy. They’d not talked anymore about any of it, and there was a part of him that was glad for it. The morning of finding out everything, he’d done enough talking to last a lifetime. But she hadn’t.

                And yes, she’d said she still saw him as just Jay. Her Jay. But it felt different now. Was it only on his side? Was he the only one, who felt slightly out of order? Like they’d been put back together with a missing piece?

                He wanted to ask, but then he didn’t. It was quiet between them. Peaceful even.

                But it didn’t feel as soft or smooth or relaxed. Like they were both waiting for the other shoe to drop.

                “Lanie?”

                Lanie glanced up from the novel she was reading and lifted a brow, “Yeah?”

                “Have you felt like—” he pursed his lips, studying the TV for a long moment before reaching for the remote to mute it, “Have you felt like everything is different now?”

                She put down her book on the coffee table and pulled her feet off his lap. He immediately missed their warmth on his legs. “You feel that it’s different?”

                “Don’t you? Everything feels, just a little, off. Like we’re still not quite fully OK.”

                “I think it’s going to take time Jay,” Lanie spoke matter of fact, but her hands had tightened on the couch and her shoulders were stiff.

                “I said a lot when we talked about everything. And you didn’t really. Did you—I mean—” he swallowed, wondering if this was a terrible idea, “did you have things you wanted to say, but didn’t get to? Or things you wanted to ask?”

                Lanie stared at him, brows drawing low over those expressive hazel eyes then she finally looked down at her feet and sighed. “I guess maybe I do.”

                “OK, let’s hear it.”

                “Jay—I don’t want to push you. I never have. You know that.”

                “I do. But I’m telling you it’s OK now. I think we need to get the rest out. To get it all out.”

                Whatever it was. He needed the last piece to click back in.

                “The Joker,” Jason stiffened and Lanie automatically reached to grab his hand. It meant more to him than she probably realized. Mostly because she did it without thought. It was second nature for her to be soothing and kind. It was simply who she was. “He did terrible things to you. And he killed you. I just—I don’t understand why you didn’t kill him. You killed others as Red Hood. Men who’d done less but you kept Joker alive.”

                “I—” wow, that was a question he’d not been expecting. One he occasionally still struggled immensely with, “I tried to. And failed. Brue stopped me.”

                Her nose wrinkled and something like disgust passed over her face. It made warmth flow from his chest into his toes. “Why?”

                “Because Bruce doesn’t kill, and he wanted to protect me. He thought I would regret it once I realized what I did.”

                “And would you have?”

                He frowned at her, “I don’t know. I can’t honestly say. I wish he were dead. I still have fantasies of killing him on my bad days, because it helps me feel more in control. But I don’t know. Bruce did what he thought was right. It took me a long time to come to terms with that and forgive him for it.”

                “I—” Lanie inhaled sharply, “I’ve never been a violent person, Jay. You know this,” she lifted her eyes to his with a look of sudden apology, “But with a face to the crimes, with a person I can hate for the things done to you—I’ve been wanting him dead. I’ve been struggling with the fact that he’s not.”

                “Oh Lanie,” he was smiling even though she looked sick over what she’d confessed, and he couldn’t stop himself. Yeah, maybe it was fucked up that his girlfriend wanted someone dead on his behalf, but it felt amazing. It felt incredible. “I struggle with the same things. I figure it makes us human.”

                “I’m not that sort of person.”

                Jason cocked his head and frowned, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but every person is that sort of person, given the right circumstances.”

                She looked at him hard, like she was trying to figure a puzzle out then finally nodded, “Yes, I guess that’s true. The right place, the right time, the right ingredients. And it all goes to shit.”         

                “Yeah…Are we OK now?”

                Lanie sighed and the last tiny little piece, the one that had felt out of joint, steadily clicked into place. “I think so.”

                He dipped to take her mouth and groaned when she easily accepted the kiss. She was warm and inviting and immediately responsive. They’d not had sex in ten days. It felt like an eternity. And it felt so fucking great to actually want it like that. To need that physical and emotional sort of connection with another human being and have his past trauma as the least of his concerns when it came to his sex life.

                In the kiss, in the press of skin on skin and the sudden hungry burst of need between them, it was just them. There was no Joker. No eerie haunting laughter or terrifying flashes of greasepaint and smiles. It was just Jason and Lanie.

                For once, for once in all the years of trauma and insecurity, Jason wasn’t scared of the what-ifs or the future that would probably hold more flashbacks and panic attacks and nightmares. He wasn’t scared. Because he had Lanie. And Lanie was going to stay. Lanie didn’t run. She didn’t back away from a fight. Lanie Thompkins loved hard and long and forever.

                And Jason was never going to give that up. Ever.


	11. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part two of Evolution of a Jaybird, Loving for Two, will start shortly. Thanks for reading!!

                Spring came slow and steady. Like it was afraid to come out and face the bitter leftovers over winter. Ice still coated windshield’s in the mornings and the average citizen of Gotham did their usual grumbling as they shuffled out to work bundled in scarf and mittens and hat. But the change of one season to another was felt. It was felt as the dirty gritted snow melted along the gutters of the streets and the sun’s fingers took on a warmer more present feeling by midday.

                Gotham might be an old woman, none too eager to change, but even she couldn’t deny that Spring was on its way.

                Spring made everything feel new. It made it all feel fresh and crisp. The baited breath before a grand performance or the belly flutter of anxiety and excitement before a first date. It was Lanie’s favorite time of the year. Having Jay with her, made it that much better.

                She let herself enjoy the quiet with Jay, snuggled into her cable knit scarf and woolly blow-up sweater. He’d woken her early, so early she’d blinked roughly through sandpaper eyes and hadn’t even managed to mumble a response. She’d merely followed behind him, mind sluggish and thoughts still clinging to the comfort of their warm bed. It hadn’t occurred to her to ask him where they were going.

                At least, not at that moment.

                And it didn’t really matter, because she was with Jay and it was going to be a beautiful sunrise on a crisp Spring morning. She had nowhere better to be and wanted to be nowhere else.  

                They’d been driving for nearly an hour and even though Lanie could tell they’d only just moved outside Gotham’s sprawling limits, it felt like they’d gone much further. Trees dotted the median and clung heavily along the roadway. Gotham Forest welcomed them with big bushy pines and evergreens in a way that felt inviting and clean with the pre-dawn tickle of pinks and purples.

                When they took a turn off at mile marker 32, Lanie straightened in her seat and waited till Jay pulled her little Toyota down a two-track that was rough enough she was forced to grab at the dash. Still, neither one of them said anything. Maybe it was because Lanie didn’t want to break the ethereal quality of the morning before the sun broke the stillness, or maybe it was because Lanie knew Jay. He would talk when he was ready. He would explain if he wanted to. He didn’t need prompting or poking. He did what he wanted, when he wanted, how he wanted.

                It could be both utterly frustrating and absolutely stunning depending on the circumstances.

                When they pulled to a stop in a small muddy clearing where the yellowed dead grass was stomped down and there were a couple patches of snow still visible, Lanie finally turned in her seat and studied Jay.

                He looked a little wild and a whole lot dangerous. His eyes were bottle green this morning and he was sporting a couple days-worth of scruff on his cheeks. His hair, bed-ruffled and messy tangled over his forehead and needed a trim but added to the ruffian look. He was as breathtaking as she anticipated their sunrise was going to be.

                “What are we doing here Jay?” she whispered, hesitant to break the seal of quiet.

                Jay sighed, his shoulders sloping downwards as he reached for the thermos and paper cups he’d brought along from the console. “I wanted to show you something.”

                “Alright.”

                If he wanted to drive an hour to show her something, then it meant it was special to him. Jay was nothing if not extremely intentional. He did things because he meant them. He may not always have the most finesse about how he did them, but they were absolutely purposeful.

                Lanie shivered as they poured out of the car and fell into step beside one another. He lead her towards a tiny opening of trees that didn’t look like a path at all, but was one because he plunged through the underbrush as if he knew what he was doing. She stayed a foot behind him, scraping past clinging needles and inhaling the cool sharp flavor of the morning to clear her head. She felt softly energized and lot curious by the time they pushed through a final ring of foliage and came headlong into a half-frozen lake.

                It wasn’t a big lake, but it was hidden here, inside the thick woods and when she looked at Jay’s face, she could see it was personal to him. This place, deep in the woods, meant something special to Jay. Any tension in his shoulders had disappeared and he stood, hip-cocked and loose. A man at ease.

                “It’s beautiful.”

                And it was. The sun was creeping along the horizon line, itching to push above the needle-like points of the trees and it cast long sweeping lines of orange and pink above them.

                “It’s my spot.”

                Lanie smiled, reaching to take Jay’s freezing fingers in her own. He was still holding the thermos and paper cups in his other hand. “Did you bring something hot for us?”

                He blinked as if splitting from a trance then those bright eyes found hers and then finally smiled into her own, “Hot cocoa.”

                “Yum.”

                He poured the piping hot liquid into the paper cups and she ambled along after Jay as he paced over to a log that was frosted and brittle by the lake’s frozen edge. Lanie sipped on the cocoa and kept silent, content to share the same space as Jay, even if it meant just being near him. The heat of his thigh was pressed into her own, but he hadn’t taken her hand again. And she wondered what was going through his mind.

                “I used to come here a lot. To think and stuff.”

                “It’s pretty.”

                He gave her rueful smile over the edge of his cup, “I skinny dip here in the summer.”

                Lanie almost snorted cocoa, “I don’t believe it.”

                “I do. I did last summer anyways. Not many people know about the lake and if I get here late enough in the day, I don’t run into anyone. It feels like it’s mine then. Like no one else is allowed to step into this spot and I own it all. It’s always been a safe spot to come to. And think or dream. Or--” he swallowed thickly, “Or just be.”

                Lanie did reach for Jay’s hand then, because her heart felt too full and she needed to touch him. She needed to feel his callouses and his warmth and take him in till she couldn’t take any more.

                “And you’re sharing it with me.”

                It was as clear as the crystalline sky overhead that this was a big thing for Jay. That him sharing it, meant something. Feather-thin and wafer-like and impossibly beautiful. Jay’s trust was as beautiful as his love.  

                He pushed a strand of her hair out of her eyes, something soft and impossibly sweet passing through his gaze, “Yes.”

                “Thank you.”

                Lanie pressed her mouth to Jay and he responded with cocoa warmed lips and a tangle of fingers at the nape of her neck. He tasted sweet. They kissed lazily, in the way that couples do when they know each other well and are in no hurry at all. She liked that they could be called that now.

                No, she loved it.

                “I love you Jay,” Lanie whispered, when he released her mouth and pressed a few more lingering kisses to her cheeks and then nose. His answering smile had no reluctance or fear or even strain. It was a smile that meant that he felt safe and loved. One that said he loved her back. Lanie sank into the feeling and curled herself into his side like a cat who’d just had an entire bowl of warm milk.

                “I love you too, Lanie.”

                They watched the sunrise clinging to each other for warmth and said nothing else. There were no more words needed.


End file.
